STOP Reading This Post...

This post is about poop. It will disgust you. I guarantee it is gross.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Rach and Phil, this one's for you. It's better/worse/more disgusting than the raisin story, in my opinion.

Have I mentioned that James is in the potty training era of his life? He started asking to go so I jumped on the opportunity to work our way out of diapers. We went to the store and he picked out his very own undies: ones covered in cars and trucks. Now, in our house, 'unnies' are the season's latest fashions as they say on Nappy Dyn@mite. He is very good at going pee in the bathroom and has very few accidents with that. The only problem is, James is afraid to do certain business in the pot. OK. I already warned you. He refuses to POOP in the pot. Why? I don't know. He likes to do it surreptitiously and then come to me and say 'wet'. I bet that feels awkward, walking around with a big chunk 'o poo hanging out in your tractor undies. (Again, if you are still reading/cringing/disgusted...I warned you!) So anyway, yesterday afternoon he walked over to me with his ankles together like a penguin. At first, I thought maybe he wet himself. After all, he already pooped that morning. Why would he do it again? It was this same faulty reasoning that allowed me to let him go running around sans undies yesterday afternoon. Did I mention that my reasoning was flawed? Apparently all the multi-grain pancakes James eats have turned him in to a pooping ma-cheen. There, hanging out in the leg of his jammies was a giant blob-o-you-know-what. Eeeeewww! If you are wondering why James was in his jammies in the afternoon, he found his 'line' (lion) jammies in the closet upstairs and insisted on wearing them. They had an elastic band around the ankle, preventing the renegade poop from completely falling out of his pant let. Going back to the clean-up effort, I had quite a time extracting him and I think he was equally as disgusted as I by the 'nassy' poop smeared all down his leg. And his foot. And between his toes. Maybe next time he'll decide to use the pot when he goes. And maybe next time you'll listen when I tell you to stop reading a post. I told you it was going to be gross!