Episode 120: You go doo doo... A lot. Don't deny it.

We're almost there. So... Close... Of course, I am talking about what else? The day we finally unhinge ourselves from the oppression of diapers and start going doo doo's in the toilet. Or at least a smaller receptacle that reasonably resembles a toilet and may or may not play princess music as you eject all of your body's toxins out in a convenient little log. We haven't set up the potty training equipment yet, but we are at least at a point now where she understands what happens when she, or anyone else, goes doo doo's.

This is so promising. You have no idea. I hate, hate, hate diapers. I hate the way they smell, the way they feel, the way they sound when you crinkle them. Hate. Changing them is worse. No one should ever be that close to human poop. No one. And they are expensive, half the time the sides snap off (even on the really good ones) and then they make the baby's ass look huge. They look hard to walk in, and did I mention they smell funny? Even before the poop. I can't wait. Of course, this will open up plenty of awkward 'cover her eyes' moments as I have to take her in to the men's room to go doo doo's, but that is a different topic for a different day.

I think my favorite part of the whole process is that she likes to reinforce the fact that she is not the only one who goes doo doo's. For example, whenever anyone goes in to the bathroom, or whenever you are changing her diaper, she will recite the fact that everyone she knows goes doo doo's. 'Mommy doo doo, Daddy doo doo, Papa doo doo, Little Cat doo doo, Nuggie doo doo, Uncle John doo doo,' and so on. This is, of course, very educational and very effective in convincing her that doo doo's are very normal and it is more fun to go on the toilet than it is to go in your pants. Don't laugh, she will do it to you, too if she see's you. Because you go doo doo's. A lot. And you know it. The problem is that she has started to tell strangers how much everyone goes doo doo's, and she has a bad habit of exaggerating, too.

She already has a tendency to tell random people, like checkout clerks at stores, that I am her daddy. "That's my daddy," she will say as she pats me on the chest or the shoulder. Now, she has expanded it to "That's my daddy. Daddy doo doo." Cool, thanks for telling everyone what I did before we left. Even funnier, though, is the fact that whenever someone goes in to the bathroom she just assumes we're going doo doo's, even though they may be just brushing their teeth. This makes for a lot of joking and making fun around our house.

'Mommy doo doo's!'

'I'm not going doo doo's I'm cleaning up the tub!'

'Mommy doo doo's!'

'Yeah, your mommy goes doo doo's all the time. I think she is sick.'

'Hey! That's not true!'

And so on...

There you go. A short glimpse in to my life. Poop jokes. Classic. I give her three months before she is going on the toilet. Longer post tomorrow, as soon as I get my grand kids to show me how to upload the photos I need for it on to my new fangled Internet machine. I am pathetic.