We have been horribly disgusting in our house. We talk about poopy and wee wee and all sorts of bad stuff. But in our defence, it is a hot topic for a reason. First of all, we're in the battle of a lifetime with Joshua who has no interest in continuing his basic potty training. Second, Liam has started a new craze. He loves it when we read him Captain Underpants by Dav Pilkey. We started with #2 Attack of the Talking Toilets and now we've back-tracked to the first book in the series. The premise is that there are two misfit elementary school boys with no conscious (either of them) but shockingly intelligent senses of humor. These two kids would do great on the show Jack-Ass- that is making up the stunts and then getting out of the way while the stars do inflict pain on themselves. And really, since they're fictional children I really can say they are Jack-Asses. They pull pranks like putting pepper in the cheerleader's pom poms and somehow persuading cafeteria ladies to mix baking soda and vinegar to make cupcakes (kind of far fetched to assume lunch ladies don't know enough about cooking to catch that error... or is it?). Anyway, they also know how to write and illustrate- now that is something that as an educator I can appreciate :) . So they write comics about Captain Underpants a superhero in tighty whities. Next we're moving on to The Wicked Wedgie Woman and eventually we'll get to the much anticipated... Professor Poopypants.
Now I've been calling both of my boys "Professor Poopypants" for as long as they've been pooping and insisting that I be the one to clean it up. But up until now it has had little significance. Still, to be honest, I doubt they know what the "professor" in "Professor Poopypants" means, except that it sounds ridiculous... and gross.
Recently the boys have been alternating in their inability to look at a camera and smile. Liam will look and then roll back his upper lip to reveal only teeth in a freakish jack-o-lantern smile but then Josh will turn his head and say something like "Roar!" instead of looking at the camera. Or Josh will look at the camera with a mope and Liam will whip his head with his eyes closed. So if I really do want them both looking and giving me an actual smile, I must resort to "Professor Poopypants" and thus far, the trick hasn't failed me. Embarrassed me in public, yes, but failed me, no. And once the pictures are developed, who cares if there's someone in the background of the shot giving us a dirty look? More times than not, they're actually giggling too because there are very few people who can hear "Professor Poopypants" and not crack at least a little smile (try it, I dare you).
Is this acceptable in public? I mean, can kids talk about poopypants, diapers, farts and peeing at a place such as a dinner table? Or perhaps a better question, is there really any better place to talk of such things? Now that I recall, Bill and his brothers have been grossing out guests at their family Thanksgiving table looong before any babies were born. So perhaps it shouldn't surprise me now that all Liam & Joshua and their friends want to talk about at the table is... poopypants, diapers, farts and peeing or variations thereof. Also, apparently it's not enough to say these things, you must say them loudly so everyone can hear and then laugh so hard they snort milk out of their noses. So here's my take on this... I've found that some of my personal philosophy has become more malleable (translate: picking battles which can be translated into: being lazy)... it depends on the company? The first time "pooping" was brought up at a playdate, I did suggest that it wasn't a great topic but ... eventually I let it go because everyone else was. So now that's the hot topic at playdates because apparently if any one of us decided to stick their their original philosophy of no potty talk at the table, they gave up like me (resistance is futile!). But if poopytalk were to occur in other circles... eh, we'd probably have to put the kabosh in it, which would be no fun at all.
But back to pooping. Here's a tip for all you parents of kids with diapers: If you're kid is walking around like he/she has a wedgie, he/she may actually have a wedgie and you may want to take care of the "problem" before the poopsplosion comes (I made that word up, it's not from Captain U, I swear. I doubt a real author would be able to make up a word with 4 consonants in a row anyway). My sister was lamenting that she had no other option but to change her one year old baby on a public restroom changing table. We were at a fancy resort. She was staying overnight but her room wasn't ready (thus the unfortunate changing table) and I was just visiting for lunch which is my way of hanging out with the fancypantses even though I can't afford to spend the night! At any rate, after she fussed over the germs on the surface, using a changing pad from home and a few paper towels for a pillow, I washed off those little fingers with an extra wipey and he was on his way. Then it was Joshua's turn. He was plopped down bare-assedWhatevs. Unscathed, we walked back to the rest of our party down a long hallway, stopping to look at a nature exhibit and peek into the library (my sister needed a private place to nurse later on since the room wasn't ready). That's when we noticed how silly he was walking down the hallway "like he had a wedgie". Yeah, he actually did have a wedgie. Big mistake... BIG mistake.
After a lovely afternoon mini putt-putting (that has nothing to do with pooping, we were actually golfing), walking in the gardens, feeding the fishies, sipping tea and perusing the gift shop I realized that Joshua was a little stinker. Really, a little stinker. So I exited with Josh as Liam went down to feed more fish. Carrying Joshua down to the bathroom, I realized there was some leakage. This wasn't good. His other pants were parked in the car- not close by (too cheap for valet). Hmmmm... Back to the bathroom with the changing table with no changing pad. Poopsplosion. And why? Because the diaper was only covering one of his cheeks.
You know how it always happens; you go into a perfectly empty space to do something private and then people end up being right there, flocking to the exact location where you are trying to complete your private deed? Well, there I was with a disgusting diaper... an external disgusting diaper mess... and suddenly there was someone sitting right behind me in a chair behind the changing table (I could have sat in her lap) and masses of people overtook the sinks... those sinks with precious water and soap and paper towels that I needed. Did I mention I had no cell phone? Did I mention my little professor poopypants over here thought the whole thing was hilarious and was kicking his legs and wiggling his butt to and fro?
I got rid of the evidence like a pro, forced a diaper on Joshua, wiped down the changing table and plopped him down in the chair that the lady had apparently gotten up from (what better hint do you need then someone's ass in your face and a stink of poop wafting at you head on?). I set to work at Joshua's pants with some wet paper towels and soap but we all know it was a cob job, the best I could do in the situation. I can decisively say we both washed our hands thoroughly this time! Nonchalantly we set back out into the fancy hotel, Joshua with a wet pants butt that he couldn't feel (thanks to his fresh new diaper), me with frizzed out hair and the appearance of someone who was thoroughly defeated. We walked atop the beautiful Victorian carpet past the detailed wood-work, the luxuriously padded furniture, the classical music drifting through the air... and it was time to go home.
My sister walked us to the car and when we got there, I gave her the best advice that I could ever really offer her... "On second thought, don't use those restroom changing tables after all."
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