Mon 18 Sep 2006
A phone conversation between Husband and me while I am in Chicago.
Me: How’s Aitch doing with his toilet training? Did he poop yet today?
Husband: No, he hasn’t—Christ on a cracker, what is this mess?
Me: What is it?
Husband: Looks like he pooped on the floor of the bathroom.
Me: Did he poop in his pants and then take them off in there, or did he go into the bathroom because he had to poop and just not quite make it?
Husband: Aitch, did you poop in your pants and take them off, or were you trying to make it to the potty?
Aitch: [unintelligible]
Husband: He’s not telling.
Me: Well, can’t you tell from the–
Husband: –poop splatter?
Me: Exactly!
Maybe we should spend a little less time with “CSI” and more time toilet training.
September 18th, 2006 at 2:59 pm
Should the suspense prove too much to bear for Wife’s gentle readers, further examination of the grime scene showed conclusively that the poop had lodged in the underpants before being deposited on the floor.
September 19th, 2006 at 1:26 pm
Oh, the poop splatter. It is what it is.
We have a lot of poo talk in our house, too. As in, “do you really have to poo, or are you just trying to get a treat and showered with unconditional praise?”