Me: Who did you play with at daycare today?
The Boy: Ummm.... *insert mischievous grin*
I can't deny it, the boy really is hilarious. And he sure does love talking about poop.
But when it comes to actually pooping on the potty, he will hold it in for as long as he can, wiggling uncontrollably whilst vehemently denying that he even has to go.
(Just give it up, Boy. I'm calling your bluff here.)
Once I sit him down and he does as nature intended, all is good in his little world again, and he proudly announces, "I feel so much better now!"
Which begs the question: Why do you insist on holding it in, then??
We play this game daily, and it recently got me thinking about when I was a kid and went through a period where I was absolutely terrified of going number two.
I was maybe 7 or 8 years old and was playing outside during recess at school with some other kids. One of the girls mentioned that her mom, who was a nurse, told her that if you push too hard when trying to poop, then your insides will come out of your body through your bum.
I was horrified. No way in hell was I going to push on the potty anymore and risk having my innards come out. So, out of pure fear, I decided to stop pooping.
Seriously, I went days -- DAYS -- of holding it in and experiencing excruciating stomach cramps. I remember my mom asking me what was wrong, but I of course denied that there was a problem at all and simply stated that I didn't have to go.
(Foolish lie. Moms clearly know everything.)
Of course, it's physically impossible to hold your waste in forever, and I eventually did go again. And it was then that I realized that, if my body could survive that epic of a bowel movement without all of my insides also exiting my body, then I had nothing to worry about the next time I had to push a little on the potty.
I mean, DAYUM!
So as I was remembering this the other day while patiently waiting for my boy to finish his business, I started thinking to myself, "What kind of nurse/mom would lie to her child and scare them into not wanting to poop?!?"
Which is when I came to the realization that this woman was probably referring to hemorrhoids and how they can become external if you're a chronic strainer in the washroom.
Of course! HEMORRHOIDS!
Somebody please go back in time and tell my seven-year-old self that everything turns out okay, because, seriously. No child needs to be worried about that kind of shit.
(Bhahaha! See what I did there? Shit! Obviously my son gets his hilariousness from me.)
Ahem. Okay. And for those of you who might feel that I'm oversharing here, well, I'm 40 now. And 40 is the new 60 in our house, so this is only the beginning.
You're welcome, America. You're welcome.