A few months ago, I wrote a blog post about how Diana followed Luca around the house with a diaper while he decided on a place to defecate. By way of road testing the post, I told the story to a colleague.
I thought he’d get a chuckle out of the poo antics, but he suddenly got really serious, looked me in the eye and said, “You better watch out. You’re going to screw him up like that.”
Aaaaand we did.
Luca now has decided he will no longer poop. Ever.
We didn’t even notice it at first. A few days went by with no pooping and we thought, “Eh. It’ll work itself out sooner or later.” But then it became LATER. We got worried that things were going very wrong in his innards.
So like any parent hell bent on screwing up their child, we started asking about it all the time.
“Do you have to poop? Hey, what about pooping? Oh…if you go poop we’ll take you to Chuck E Cheese. You know who poops? Fireman Sam.”
He’d just look at us with a slight uncomfortable frown and declare he did not have to go.
And then the pain began. For all of us. Luca spent several hours last Sunday doubled over in pain. Yet, still refusing to make a deposit. I was at the grocery store at the time and got a text from Diana that simply read, “Laxative. Luca is in a bad way.”
I stood at the laxative aisle, trying to find one for kids. But they all seemed to cater to the geriatric set. I called Diana and barked over a bad connection, “Which laxative won’t kill a child? These all look like buckets of sand.”
From behind me I heard a voice, “Miralax.”
I turned to see a guy who looked normal enough. But why was he giving me advice about Laxatives? Was he some kind of weirdo?
“My doctor is one of those doctors who refuses to even give my kids antibiotics. But the only two things he treats aggressively are asthma and constipation. He recommends Miralax.”
I took the medical advice of the man I’d never met (remember, I’m the guy who marches his sons 2 miles in 104 degree heat) and went home.
By the time I got home, Luca had angrily passed a brick and was laying in his bed, exhausted.
We’ve had him on a strict diet of laxatives and prune juice (after consulting our doctor, but he still hasn’t found his rhythm. I’m hoping aggressively bothering him about it all the time will do the trick.