Love Poop

Diana says, “I know what love is.  Love is covering your and your son’s head with a blanket and holding his hand while be poops.”

Yeah, we’ve entered great and terrible stage of Luca’s potty training.  Great, because he will actually go on the toilet.  Bad, because he has very specific needs to make it happen.  He likes to create a temporary “Poopatorium” in the bathroom with his special blankie.  And he prefers his Mother to hold his hand.

I specifically say “Mother” because Homie don’t play dat.  I refuse to do the Poopatorium tent and hand holding routine.  Not because I’m a bad father and a jerk (not entirely), but because I have a lightening quick gag reflex.  I shudder to think the kind of damage I’d do if I barfed on Luca in his special time.

Which leads me to this awesome story.

Saturday night, Diana was working and the boys were running around, post bath, acting like lunatics.  Suddenly, Luca started dancing and prancing.  Urgently.

Elijah shouted, “Luca has to poop!  Go get his blankie!”

“Nooo!” shouted.  “Let’s not!  Let’s just sit on the potty and do your stuff!  It will be great!”

Luca got more and more agitated.  I tried to put him on the potty.  He leapt off and danced.

“Come on, man.  We can do this.  How’s this?  I’ll hold your hand and you can poop.  But I can’t do the blankie.  If you do this I’ll buy you that Super Hero Encyclopedia.  I’ll buy you a Kindle.  Two Kindles.  Five.”

“He’ll take you to Chuck E Cheese,” Eli added, seeing a golden opportunity.

“Yes, what he said!  Chuck E Cheese!”

Can you see where this is going?  Do I really have to tell you what happened?  Do I have to explain the plop, plus the whole roll of toilet paper, plus the whole bottle of Formula 405?