Even though I’ve been working ridiculously long hours, coming home exhausted and neglecting important things like Facebook and this blog I have to admit that I’m quite enjoying myself.
It takes me an hour to get to work each day, and most days I’m there so early that my husband is still in bed sound asleep. Yesterday was one of these early morning days, and to add to the matter it was practically monsooning. But then I walk in the door and Jack immediately grabs my hand, starts running us in circles around the apartment while gleefully shouting, “I happy! I happy!”
A couple of hours later I’m changing his diaper, and older sister Jill is on her training potty. She’s been doing really well with the “pee” aspect of potty training but is afraid to go “poop” on the potty. I don’t think I’ve ever talked about poop more than I have in the past few weeks. We’ve read countless books on potty training and pooping, everytime we see a dog we talk about how it poops and I’ve asked the question, “Do you need to poop?” more times than I can count. Poop, poop, poop.
Jack however has a habit of reaching down to touch his bottom when I change his diaper. Poopy diapers. That means poopy little boy hands. Poopy little boy hands trying to touch me. As I’m trying to avoid being touched by poopy little boy hands Jill goes, “I did it! I did it! I pooped! I pooped in the potty!!”
“Oh my goodness Jill, that’s so great!!”
“Come see it!! Come see my poop! Do you want to see my poop?!”
And then I said something I never thought I would hear myself say, “I do want to see your poop!”