Potty talk

The terms our family has chosen to use when discussing restroom habits is in no way meant to be crude or offensive. There was no round table discussion between mother and father as to which words we would teach our kids when referring to the elimination processes that are a necessity of life. It just kind of evolved into the terminology that is now a part of our daily life.

At our house, it’s called pee pee and poop. That’s it. Nothing flashy. Not too technical. Simple, one syllable words any two-year old can whisper discretely, or scream from the top of his lungs during a funeral.

We started talking a lot about it when the oldest boy got old enough to think about using “the potty”, another term we chose to use. I figured if we talked about it, he might be more encouraged to do something with it. It didn’t work quite that quickly; however, our words did seem to have an effect on the boy, just not the effect I’d hoped.

It’s funny how kids hear us say one thing, and take it to mean something completely different. Like the time I asked Cooper if he was poopy. He said, “No, I’m Cooper.” Now if he was 16, I might have accused him of being fresh, but at two and a half, he didn’t yet have a firm grasp on the use of sarcasm. On a similar occasion, when I asked the same question, he replied, “No, I’m not poopy. I’m pee pee.” The verb had instantly become a state of being.

After a while, it seemed he became so at ease with the family jargon that he began using it at the most inappropriate times and in the most ridiculous of ways. At the end of his prayers, he began saying “A-poop” instead of “A-men”. After a sleep over at his Aunt Debbie’s, he kindly told her that her cookies tasted like poop. In church one Sunday, after singing “God is Love”, he decided to ask if God was in poop.

Don’t ask me where this comes from. I’m sure his father has nothing to do with it. I had to have a talk with Dad, telling him of the boy’s apparent new, favorite word. Dad’s input? “This might be a pretty hard thing to break.” Yeah, no kidding.

Months later, now that the boy is potty trained, the talk has moved more from the excrement itself to its final destination. Every time Cooper flushes the toilet, he asks the same question. “Now where’s it going?” I tried giving him a real explanation about pipes in the ground and a place called the sewer, but that just warranted more questions. So for now he has accepted the theory that the water from the potty goes through the big hole in the bottom of the toilet and into the ground to help water Daddy’s ball field.

Brisco isn’t really interested in sitting on the potty; in fact, he is scared to death of the big one. But he does have a true fascination for the flush. I swear that’s why our water bill keeps going up. If I ever can’t find that kid, he’s either hiding in the shower or off somewhere habitually flushing the toilet. It’s pretty strange.

It is a delicate balancing act when parents try to teach their kids about going to the bathroom. We want them to understand that they should “go” when they feel that “urge”, but as parents, we have a few urges of our own. Like explaining to them how disgusting public restrooms can be and why we always insist they use the potty before leaving the house. Cooper has finally started asking, “Don’t they have a bathroom at the grocery store?” Or where ever we happen to be going.

And it never fails, as parents, the first words out of our mouths upon entering a public lavatory are always, “Ok, now don’t touch anything.” And we always say it real dramatically, pausing for a moment between each word in hopes of getting our point across. But the truth is, kids have no idea why they aren’t supposed to touch. Just like they can’t yet grasp the concept of “what happens in the bathroom, stays in the bathroom.” I think I’ll have that painted on a board and nailed over the toilet at my house. With a house full of boys I’m certain to be in for a lifetime of “I left you a rose petal.” And, “How ‘bout a courtesy flush?!”

Just the other night we were out to eat and I took Cooper into the bathroom. After my initial warning that he keep his hands to himself, we entered the stall to find a very tidy bowl. I prepared the area and made the comment that this was a pretty clean bathroom. Cooper wanted to know why, and I said, “I don’t know. I guess somebody just cleaned it.”

After finishing his business, we returned to the restaurant area. Evidently, the boy got turned around a bit, because he seemed to be talking to his dad, but it was at a table full of folks we didn’t know. He announced loudly and proudly that, “Hey, dad, somebody just cleaned that pot in there. It was not too bad!” I’m sure the management appreciated the accolades.

Raising kids is all about stages. Just about the time I get a hold of the one we’re in, they grow out of it and we’re on to something different. I never considered that I’d have to explain to my kid why we don’t tell strangers about our bowel movements, or that it isn’t polite to announce to your Bible school class that “Brisco’s diaper had corn in it.” But evidently those are both required curriculum at our house.

Yes, as parents, our efforts are split between balancing the information we deem important for our kids to know, and divulging the information in a way their innocent minds can handle. It can be difficult to distinguish between the two. Sometimes we are forced to ad lib and hope for the best. Sometimes talk of the potty is important. And sometimes, it’s just “potty talk.”

And that’s All in a day’s work!