Warning: If you're squeamish about body functions, then this blog post is definitely not for you, and I would recommend moving on. Here's a hint, I almost titled this one "deuces wild."
Here's the story:
I came home from work a little early this afternoon, and Edison walked out of his bedroom having just finished his nap. He was wearing one of his new nighttime pull-ups and told me, "Daddy, I had a poop."
I was expecting to change him out of his pull-ups when Alisha told me, "he wasn't wearning pull-ups for his nap, he was wearning undies." The question then was, "where is the poop?"
Going into Edison's room we found all of his daytime pull-ups, night-time pull-ups, and undies stacked on top of his dresser.
Edison then tells me, "I ran all out of undies. We need to get new ones." Looking more closely at the stack on the dresser I new exactly what he meant. In the middle of the floor was the smoking gun underwear (if you catch my drift), but piled on top of his dresser were all of his undies and pull-ups, which he had used as toilet paper.
For the next twenty minutes or so Alisha and I tag-teamed the cleanup, including wiping down the outside of each of his pull-ups with a sponge. While not our favorite clean-up job, I think it may hold the record for the most hillarious. As I told Alisha, "he deserves credit for pure quantity."
CSI Golden Court
This incident reminded me of another poop-related event that happened over the summer, and seemed like something out of the show CSI.
Edison had been playing outside in the back yard naked, and came in to tell me that he had had a poop. He then proceeded to lead me to no less than four different "crime scenes" throughout the yard so that we could "collect the evidence." It was remarkable the precision to which he remembered where each little bit was located.
Anyhow, we have about six months to master the art of using the toilet before Edison starts his preschool where being potty-trained is a prerequisite. Alisha and I are anxious to get there.
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