Mother’s Day, Sunday: In the afternoon, the children were playing out in the back yard while Kevin “supervised” from the deck smoking a cigar, grilling, and playing on his laptop. I was inside taking full advantage of the day with a Mother’s Day nap upstairs.
Suddenly, our son walks out of the “nature area” (the corner of the back yard that is completely out of control with briers, determined saplings, and overgrowth) and exclaims to his father, “Daddy! Piper is trying to eat my poo!”
Yes, our four year old son had gone behind a tree and taken a crap in the yard. He knows better of course and had done so completely covert, but was so taken by surprise at our idiot Jack Russel that he accidentally told on himself.
Try having that conversation with a straight face.
Of course the yard is much preferred to say, the air-conditioning shaft...
Once, when Liam was potty-training some time around one year of age, he discovered that he could lift the air vent covers off and put things down the hole such as toys, keys, clothing, paper, unwanted food, and anything else that would fit. I had been nagging Kevin to screw the vent covers down as digging out these treasures was becoming a real nuisance. Never did I imagine I would walk in the living room one day to find my young son taking a shit down the air shaft, but I did. And just as I spied him behind the couch taking care of business, he stands up butt-naked grinning and pointing to the open hole; “I poo,” he said proudly.
This was one such time I found myself too dumbfounded to take pictures. --Beneath the freshly deposited still-warm baby feces, were various toys and an old 35mm film camera - which all went straight into the trash. But at least the vents finally got screwed down, that day.
What in the world is with little boys and their fascination with poop? I’m beginning to think Freud was onto something...
"The act of birth is the first experience of anxiety, and thus the source and prototype of the affect of anxiety."