Run Like A Mother: The Book's TMI Tuesday for today. If you're the squeamish, easily grossed-out type, or if you're eating at the moment, please stop reading now.
My 3 y.o. is pretty much potty-trained. A few accidents at night which is normal, but for the most part, he gets to the potty in time to do his business (knock-on-wood here so we don't regress for some reason).
Well lately, he's been describing EVERYTHING from the potty. And I'm not talking about describing the wonderful painting hanging in the bathroom. There are times when he needs to go during lunch and most of the time it kills my appetite as he rejoices and proclaims, "look, mommy, there's only 1, 2, 3...3 poops!" Not only that, but he personifies every single....you know...deposit he's made. "Mommy, that one is small. That's the baby one. That's me! And that big one is you, mommy, and the biggest one is daddy!"
Oh joy! To be personified as poop!
He's a gregarious 3 y.o., with very little inhibitions. In public bathrooms, he's the first one to point out if he hears something that sounds like someone let out gas. "What's that sound? Did somebody fart?" You bet I stayed in my bathroom stall until everyone else left the bathroom! Don't you just love their honesty?
(Knock-on-wood again here) I am grateful the potty training with this one was easy compared to the first two boys. I can deal with the Potty Reports, as long as he keeps up the good work going potty in time for preschool.