Graham's Latest Production

Ladies and Gentleman!  I would like you all to know that my not-even-two year-old son just POOPED on the potty!

That is what my husband shouted to a restaurant full of strangers on Saturday night.  I was mortified.  Proud, but mortified.  We were enjoying dinner with friends before heading home after what turned out to be an "interesting" weekend.  The restaurant, a bar and grille style place, had few families with children and several tipsy women and men wearing embroidered leather jackets.  Needless to say, the restaurant patrons did not share the same enthusiasm about Graham's poop as did our little group.

Embarrassment aside, it was a big accomplishment even though Graham had actually gone for the first time at home on Thursday.  That afternoon, after eating most of his lunch, I saw the telltale look on his face, and knowing that he had recently made a connection between the feeling of "needing to go" with "going" I figured it was worth asking,

"Are you going potty?"

"Poo."

"You need to poo?" (I wanted to clarify if he needed to go or had already gone)

"Huh."  (Yes)

So off we hurried to the tiny potty that just last November produced Cael's first diaper-less dump.  Knowing that it was early for him to be potty training, I wasn't expecting much, but low and behold, after only a few moments of practice pushing, Graham delivered what looked (and smelled) like an 8lb, 7oz poop. 

And this is the point at which you should stop reading if you find this stuff disgusting.  Frankly, I find it disgusting as well, but having children changes a person.  I think there is a shift that takes place at the genetic level; one that causes mothers to hoard hair clippings and belly button stubs.  It is this shift that, through no fault of my own, caused me to take pictures of my sons with their first "potty poops".

I'm seeking treatment.

Back in November, after what felt like years of potty training and little success, Cael finally used the potty for number two.  He'd been peeing semi-regularly for a couple of months but had always managed to sneak away to his favorite potty spot (three steps down the stairs) where he'd brace himself against the railing and do his thing.  Since he was three, he was very aware of what a milestone this was and knew exactly what this accomplishment meant.  After no other tactic worked, Joel and I resorted to bribery, and purchased a new Buzz Lightyear toy for Cael.  We placed Buzz on the mantle in what looked like a Pixar shrine, and urged him to use the potty if he wanted to play with that new Buzz.  To our surprise, he wasn't especially interested in dethroning the toy-- the prize he required to produce that poop was a giant campfire marshmallow.  So after his first success, he ate an entire marshmallow and promptly went to attempt another poop in exchange for more sugar.

With Cael's new-found understanding of cause and effect, he very quickly adjusted to using the potty full-time.  Meanwhile, Graham was watching and soaking up the process as he simultaneously soaked his Huggies.  I assumed his transition would take place at approximately the same pace as Cael's, who didn't even start training until last October.  "He's just too young", I thought to myself.  So when Graham happily accompanied me to the bathroom and made good on his word, he himself couldn't believe it had happened.  He looked at his masterpiece in the potty and after a moment said,

"Buh poo."  (Big poo)

"Yes, that's right!!  You did a big poo on the potty!  What a big boy!"

"No!  Buh POO!"

"Excuse me!   Alright then-- not a big BOY, a big POO!"

After he'd been cleaned up and I said a quiet prayer of thanks for digital cameras and no more need to show the photo developers my son's excrement, it was time to dish out the reward.  Because his achievement was unexpected and ahead of schedule, there was no Toy Story toy and no giant marshmallows.  Just a few animal cookies and a big, wet kiss were all the encouragement he seemed to need.  Typical second child.

So when Saturday night rolled around and I saw that same anticipatory look on Graham's little face, I all but ignored it, thinking that Thursday's production was just a fluke.  But knowing that no progress can ever be made without a little effort, I swooped him up and rushed him to the restroom.  Amazingly and unexpectedly, he did it again.  I was floored that he would be so unafraid of using a public toilet, as it took Cael much longer to go in public than in our home.

And that is why, when I returned to the table with my little over-achiever in my arms, Joel clinked his glass with his fork and decided to toast to my son's poop.  Completely embarrassed, I sunk down in my chair and polished off the rest of my onion rings.  After I finished off the spinach and artichoke dip, that is.  But that's just like life, isn't it?  Right as Graham starts the process of ditching the diapers, I start eating in a manner that will lead me back to them.

But don't worry-- I won't share those photos.


PS- Want to know what "interesting" thing we were doing this weekend?  Check back tomorrow to find out!