I’m feeling pretty proud of myself for talking about something other than penises. Unfortunately, it means I’m now going to talk to you about poop. I’m the mom of a three year old boy. I don’t have many other options!
Today we finally departed on our family beach vacation to Florida. The morning went as smoothly as a morning of packing with two little kids can. We were only about half an hour late leaving the house, which as anyone with kids knows is really about an hour and a half early. The three year old was excited about seeing dolphins and crabs on the beach, and the baby was asleep. Perfect, right? Sure. For about half an hour. Then we realized we forgot something very important back at the house. The daily poop.
My three year old has bowels like clock work. When he doesn’t keep to his schedule, its not a pretty sight. Somehow in all the chaos of packing the car, feeding the kids, double checking reservations, we completely forgot to chauffeur him to the toilet. Of course, he could have reminded me before we left, but where’s the fun in that? About an hour into the two-hour drive he started to get really quiet, then really restless, and finally really crabby. It was the dreaded trifecta. The baby was screaming and we weren’t going to stop, so it was a race against time: a ticking time bomb of poop.
As soon as we arrived at the airport, I hurried him to the toilet so he could go. He took one look at the public toilet and cried. I tried every trick in my book. I put his travel toilet seat on the toilet. No good. I sat down on the toilet and let him sit in my lap. I’m not proud of it, but I was desperate. Still no good. Although, he wasn’t above peeing on my legs. Finally it was all just too much for him and he decided he didn’t really need to go. So we left.
We made it through security without a hitch, sat down in our gate, and waited for our flight to board. He was clearly uncomfortable at this point. We bought him some Tums. He wanted 10. I gave him half of one. He farted. I begged him to try and poop before the flight. He refused. So we had the following conversation. Now, I’d like to preface this by saying that I’m not normally one to lie to my kids to get them to do what I want, but I hadn’t brought any extra underwear for him. It was a do or die situation.
Me: Honey, do you think you can try to poop on the airplane?
Three year old: No.
Me: But you can go in the super cool, extra special airplane bathroom…
Three year old: No.
Me: But if you do a poop in the airplane toilet, when we flush it will suck the poop through the hole and drop it out the bottom of the plane.
Three year old: Really? (Sounding more interested)
Me: Oh yes. It sucks the poop through the hole, drops it out the bottom of the plane, and then it flies through the air like a big brown birdie and then it goes splat on the ground.
Three year old: Will it hit anybody?
Me: Maybe. Do you want it to?
Three year old: Yeah. I want to get on the plane now so I can make my poop fly.
Me: Ok then.
What actually happened once we got into the world’s tiniest airplane bathroom is a subject for another post…