I remember watching "Regis and Kathie Lee" back in the day and being offended for 3 year-old Cody when Kathie Lee would talk about his poops. Right then, the summer before my sophomore year of high school (I'm guessing) I vowed to never talk about my children's poops on national television. That vow morphed to the blog world since this is my outlet and I won't be on national television anytime soon. And one day, many years from now when my children are older and not so self-absorbed (I'm giving it 20 years) they might want to read about their childhood. And I wouldn't want them to be embarrassed. Well, in my youth and blissful ignorance I made lots of vows regarding the children who wouldn't be in my life for another ten years -- no making them eat their vegetables, no spit-cleaning their faces, never letting them sleep in my bed.
I changed my mind on all of them.
Little Missy has started hiding from me when she does her business. One time I noticed her tell-tale face of "The poo is coming" as she ran behind the chair for some privacy. She must have decided she'd be bored back there during those long 30 seconds so she ran out, grabbed a truck, and ran back to her spot, all with a quick "Don't look at me, Mommy."
A few days later the same look crossed her face and she ran behind the couch.
"What are you doin', Little Missy?" I asked.
"Don't look at me, Mommy!"
G walked into the room, saw his sister, and walked behind the couch from the other end.
"Whatcha doin', Little Missy?"
"G," I began, "leave her alone for a little bit."
Little Missy didn't hear me and quickly responded to her brother: "I poopin', G."
Now she poops in the other room, then nonchalantly comes into the room with us and asks sweetly "You smell stankies, Mommy?" "G, you smell stankies?" I think this is the 2 year-old version of internally worrying that those around you smelled your fart. Only, she has no internal dialogue and asking out loud is admitting that "Whoever smelt it, dealt it."