Potty training is gross. The things we do, say, and discuss are just icky. My poor friend training her son had to endure mess after mess after mess. I have the lightest stomach ever and gag at the thought of, well, let’s call it daisies. She must have a stomach of steel with her Clorox wipes scrubbing whatever corner became the place to plant daisies.
Daisies were nothing that was ever discussed growing up- polite company or otherwise. Mold, spiders, and dead bugs we are cool with, but daisies- no sir. We do not talk about it.
Or tooting. We don’t talk about that, nor do we do something so oafish. Not this girl. Not in this family. Nope.
So, as a parent, I have to convey to LMC about planting daisies and where daisies belong. How they get there, and how we have to be patient. So, we sit on the flower bed and wait... and whisper, “Shhhh.... we’re on daisy patrol 2k11. We cannot scare away them away. Shhhh.....” And we talk about the daisies. A lot.
Leaving 705 to go anywhere, she tells everything good-bye.
Bye-bye T-T, poo-p [.....er, daisy].
Of course, the last item is when the door is open and I am trying to shoo her out into the hallway and nothing about this little girl is quiet.
Not only do we talk about it to each other- we talk about it to everyone else. When a successful daisy is planted, there is a celebration. There is a dance. There are phone calls and high fives. She tells her friends, she tells her friends parents. She tells strangers. Hands clapping, “I po...[planted a daisy].” She and An-Ew discuss these things and high five each other.
Cute and a little inappropriate all at once. Notsomuch in the “polite conversation” box, but, conversation nonetheless. What else are they going to talk about, Weinergate?
So, potty training. It’s gross. For instance, yesterday. LMC was getting ready for a swim date with Catherine, Ally, & Miss Beth. I checked her diaper... totally clean. “No daisies in there! Let’s get Dora!”
Diaper stripped.... oh, you older mothers know where this is going... I sit her bare bottom on my bare leg as I shimmy her Dora diaper up.
“Uh-oh... I DEED IT! Fishie?”
Hunh? HOLY DAISIES!
LMC had planted a daisy on my leg. I have never almost thrown up on my child until this moment and there have been some pretty, well, let’s just say-- I’ve had the right to toss my cookies & have not.
Like I said, potty training is gross.