Potty training is going well. Almost “too” well as now the Little Lady is keenly aware of her bodily functions. Although, in this case, knowledge isn’t power.
Or is it?
Yesterday, I had to take Mr. Boy for an emergency doctor’s visit. Turns out, there was no emergency — just a situation involving a very nervous, first-time “boy-mommy” who isn’t used to mundane matters of the penile persuasion.
But, before I could learn that Mr. Boy is perfectly normal, I had to deal with the Little Lady. A very energetic and very TALKATIVE Little Lady. In the waiting room. A room that was full of people. People who were waiting. Quietly waiting.
It was just the audience the Little Lady needed.
As I nervously waited for the nurse to open the door and call Mr. Boyâ€™s name, my very ladylike daughter entertained herself on a little slide . . . up and down she went, each time pealing laughter following her descent. Our time in the waiting room was going well. No complaints from this Mommy.
Then I heard her voice — unusually loud:
“I’m gonna stand on dis slide and POOP!”
(Oh, dear God, please tell me that wasn’t really my daughter that just spoke!)
I glanced at her in horror. She was grinning her big, cheesy grin and grabbing the handles of the slide — I assume for the support she felt was needed for her latest parlor trick.
Leaning forward and speaking in a lowered voice (hoping to inspire the Little Lady to do the same), I implored my daughter to “Hold it!”
She laughed. “Mommy! I’m a not gonna hold it!” As if I — the Mommy . . . the Adult — was being so silly with such a question.
Sensing she had taken my question quite literally, I rephrased my request. “I mean — you need to WAIT. Till we get into a bathroom. Don’t you want to sit on the potty like a Big Girl?”
The Little Lady cocked her head to her left side and looked at me, serenely and with quiet determination: “No. I don’ wanna wait, Mommy. I wanna poop right here on dis slide.”
I could hear stifled giggles coming from the direction of a “Been There, Done That” Mama who was there with her elementary aged child.
(At least, I’m hoping she had been in this situation. Surely she wasn’t just laughing at MY expense!)
There was no stopping my Little Lady from her very un-ladylike goal. No bribes, pleading entreaties, or even stern looks could make her change her mind.
And, of course, after she completed her task — she went right back to sliding. Apparently, a little extra padding doesn’t bother her.