Let me preface this post (to potentially save you beforehand) with the statement: "Not intended for weak stomachs." Which means this post is rated "Pre-K" or "For Toddlers Only." Because toddlers aren't upset at all by talk of poo, butts, weenies or the word, "Ewwww." They are fascinated with the color, size and bulk of their poo. And they ask questions about everyone else's. And, at least in our household, when a big poo is expelled, it is followed by a victorious shout of, "I DID IT!" In fact, just this morning, I thought I heard Druck's victorious exaltation as I poured my second cup of coffee.
A couple of weeks ago, I was on my way to get my hair trimmed. My cell phone rang and it was my daughter calling. When I answered, I heard some wailing in the background and she told me that Liam had done a huge poo - except that part of it was still there...in his little butt and IT WAS HUGE. She had him on the toilet and he was freaking out.
First, I have to tell you that, regardless of what it is your child asks of you - a recipe for stew, directions to someplace new, whether or not he/she looks good in that outfit, or what to do about the huge boulder of poo stuck in her child's butt - it always makes you feel good that they are asking YOU. I remember my mother being the same way when I'd call her and ask for some advice. It was like she suddenly took over and was some professional cook or a professional marriage counselor or a professional curser (and I'm not talking about the cursor on the computer). It just feels good when your kids ask for your opinion or for some advice or some cussing out of another person.
With the wailing going on in the background and listening to Liam saying, "Oh, Nimmy, Oh, Nimmy..." Catherine put him on the phone. My mind raced wildly trying to figure out a way to talk him through this. And visions from that scene from one of Mike Meyers's movies came to my mind when he was in one bathroom stall and Tom Arnold was in another.
"Liam? Liam! You can do this, Buddy. You can do it. Now listen. I want you to lean forward just a tiny bit and push that poo outta there, honey. Push it out! Now listen up: who's the boss here? You? Or the poo? You show that poo who's boss, honey. You show it. Push!"
From the other end of the line came all kinds of grunts, moans, cries and...finally! FINALLY - I heard a little PLOOP!! Like a stone being dropped into the creek behind our house where I grew up.
Shouts of great joy rang out from my daughter as she commended Liam for doing it and he yelled, "I DID IT, I DID IT!"
"Liam?" I said. "Did you do it? Did the poo come out?"
"Yeah," he did it, Catherine replied. "Here, he wants to talk to you."
"I did it! Nimmy, I did it! The poo come out! THE POO COME OUT!"
"You did it, Buddy? That's great! Good job!"
I hung up the phone and smiled. Often we question what our purpose in life is. After all, I haven't done anything spectacular in my lifetime - no trips to the moon (although I've had threats from my dear husband promising that he can somehow get me there - FAST), no great scientific discoveries (except for that amazing mountain of mold inside the ricotta cheese container I found one time in the frig that continues to give me nightmares), no real musical talent (except the voice that only my grandson and partially deaf cats seem to love).
I had a purpose that day. I was a great help to someone. And it made me feel needed. It made me feel good. I am the Poo Whisperer.
Copyright 2010 liamsgrandma
