Despite clamoring from tweeps to the contrary, I resisted the urge to take a picture of 3B’s first ever poop in a potty. Mama was at prenatal yoga, so she missed the moment.
Then again, who wants to come home all blissed out to a picture of a turd?
Besides, with any luck, she’ll have plenty of chances to see him poop in a potty in the near future.
For the record, everything was cool. 3B loved being able to use toilet paper and flush–two of his favorite surreptitious hobbies, but now fully excused.
He also loved waving good bye to his poop, and although there was a brief moment of horror that crossed his sweet little face when his poop disappeared out of the toilet, we just kept talking through the moment and it passed without further ado.
Chalk one up for being a chatterbox.
However, I’m not sure what brought this on so we can repeat it. It might have been a comment I made about one of his stuffed animals using his potty, which might have inspired his fierce toddler competitiveness and possessiveness. Great. Now I have to read my Freud to see if I’ll have a competitive pooper on my hands for the next 18 years, or until he can afford to pay for his own therapy.