Poop and Butts

WARNING: I am about to say the word "poop" about 50 times. Which means that if Zack could read, he'd be giggling like crazy the entire time. He loves the word "poop." Also, he loves "butt." If someone says "poopy butt" he goes into hysterics. Isn't it great to be a three year old boy?

Zack has had what we kindly refer to as "poopy problems," which an adult would politely call "constipation." I have been potty training him seriously for about two months, although this is actually the second attempt. It has taken him so amazingly long to be potty trained that I fear for his educational future. Seriously, this isn't as hard as, say, algebra, and if he can't master Bowel Movements 101, how in the world is he ever going to get that advanced degree in engineering? Wearing a diaper, that's how.

His potty habits go something like this:

1) Eat in great quantities.
2) Don't poop.
3) For a real long time.
4) Stop eating anything at all.
5) Wait several days, not eating or pooping. Whining quite a bit, though.
6) Poop! Anywhere that's convenient. Frequently in underwear, while sitting on the couch, which fortunately has removeable covers. The couch, not the underwear.
7) Eat like a 300 pound guy about to be kicked out of the all-you-can-eat buffet.
8) Repeat.

We hit #6 on the list yesterday, amazingly enough he even made it to the toilet which means that the rest of the family was ready to break out the non-alcoholic sparkling cider, because we could still sit on the couch. But it also explains why I was awake at 4:45 this morning starting this entry - he was hungry. And since it was too early to hit Chuck-a-Rama, I had to haul my tired butt down to the pseudo-kitchen to find him something to eat.

He ate a roll and an apple, and I was in pretty good spirits considering how early it was. The clock on my dvd player said 3:45, because it apparently is smarter than all of Congress put together and knew that Daylight Savings Time was supposed to end today. But it being so early, I knew that it was very likely that Zack would go back to bed and even possibly sleep in a little.

"Very likely" is not the same as "actually happened," though, and I was back up at 5:50 to tell Noah and Zack to stop screaming. Even though it was screaming from happiness and not pain, it was roughly the sound of a semi in need of a brake job. A semi full of pigs and squeaky hinges. And fingernails on chalkboards. I don't know where that delivery is headed, but that semi can just keep on truckin', as far as I'm concerned.

Despite the rough beginnings, the day didn't turn out too badly. Ryan and Darcey are both sick, so they stayed home from church, and Ryan and I alternated napping the rest of the day because neither of us had the stamina to be the on-call parent the whole day.

By this evening, the eating had pretty much worn off, and it looks like we are headed for a no-pooping spell. But even if the poop doesn't materialize anytime soon, that won't keep us from talking about it. And butts. Zack was looking at a "Where's Waldo" type of book that features a toy person named "Seymour" I made the mistake of telling Brad that his last name was "Butts." Brad found that slightly amusing but for Zack it was like I was Bill Cosby doing the giving birth skit for the first time - he could barely breathe he was laughing so hard! That led to a round of butt-related things he kept pointing out in his book - "Look! A Butt-Camel!" "Look! A Butt-Ball!" "Look! A Butt-Butt!" Now he's rolling around on the couch, gasping for air and shrieking "A Butt-Butt! A Butt-Butt!"

Maybe the advanced engineering degree is more out of reach than I thought.