My son is obsessed with poop. With the word poop, with actual poop, with anything associated with poop: butts, farts and diarrhea. I’m so tired of poop. It’s not just making poop jokes, it’s the random blurting out of the word at any and all times. He snuck my digital camera into the bathroom and took a picture of his own poop.
Recently, I was elected to the school board, so, I’m trying to be a teensy bit more put together at school. For example, I try to keep my car cleaner so that juice boxes and chip bags don’t fall out onto the ground at drop-off and pick-up. As I said, “a teensy bit fancier” which for me is, “not as gross as usual”. The other day, when I was dropping my kids off, my son opened the door and completely out of nowhere screamed ‘POOP POOP FARTS DIARRHEA’ in front of all of the kids, parents, the principal, and teachers on duty as he hopped out. So much for pretending I have any control over my kids at all.
He’s learning to write, and one of the first words he figured out how to put down on paper by himself was poop. “MOM!” he yelled to me the other day from the living room, “HOW DO YOU SPELL DIARRHEA?”
Me: I’m not going to tell you.
Him: It’s my favorite word, and it’s very special to me! I know it starts with D. What comes next.
Me: Long sigh.
Him: MOM! HOW DO YOU SPELL DIARRHEA? D AND THEN WHAT COMES NEXT?
Me: I don’t know how to spell it. Ask your father.
I am losing this battle, and it’s escalating. There is no amount of discussion, angrily or reasonably, threats of losing screen time, being pulled from stores, playdates, or swimming lessons early, that will stop the poop talk. We even tried the permissive route: You can have as much poop talk as you want in the bathroom, where poop belongs. It didn’t work.
However, I am not alone. Little Dude and I were at a birthday party for one of his little friends this weekend and it was nothing but poop, fart, butts, diarrhea – from all the kids. Boys and girls alike! I was so happy to see the stream of poop talk jump the gender gap! They played tag, the kid that was ‘it’ was a poop. At one point they were all cheering or chanting something unintelligible. My friend looked at me and said, “It’s fart. They are chanting fart.” I think we all left that party with the greatest gift of all, knowing that we are sisters in the battle against poop. A battle we will all surely lose.