(So, first of all, if you’re *gasp* not a regular reader of Mommin’ It Up, you might want to read this to decode the title of this post. Ooh, mystery!)
The time is fast approaching when my kids are going to be too old for me to write about certain things they do or don’t do. And let’s face it, for this one, that time may already be past. But, since Emily loves it when I write about poop, I am going to throw this delightful tale in for old times’ sake. After all, I still have a two-year-old at home and my life is going to be ruled by my children’s bowels for a long time to come. For instance, nothing seems to move the aforementioned bowels like Mommy needing to get out of the house in a hurry. Which is why Jonah had to drop a deuce in his diaper two seconds after I needed to leave for physical therapy this morning. But anyway. Back to the dung at hand.
One of my children, who shall remain nameless, has a tendency to need to go #2 during a meal. This same child takes a book to the bathroom every time a poop is imminent. (Star Wars: The Visual Dictionary is currently the bathroom read du jour.) And, if we’re out to eat? The 20-minute doody session is a guarantee. This holds true even if it’s Grandma & Grandpa that are taking the kids out to dinner. I cannot tell you how many times my dad has had to pass a quarter hour or more in the Frisch’s bathroom with this kid. It’s bad enough that I’m uncomfortable taking my kids out to eat by myself, because I don’t feel comfortable leaving a child in the public restroom by himself for 20 minutes, and I’m not taking ALL the kids into the bathroom for that long. Not to mention the un-named super pooper will complain violently about the embarrassment of having to go in the women’s restroom.
But seriously, what is UP with that? This phenomenon has been occurring for the better part of a year, I’d say. It does happen fairly often at home, but nothing guarantees it more than the anticipation of a grilled cheese & fries kids meal on order.
I hope he outgrows it, because it’s going to be extremely awkward going on dates to restaurants one day if not. Especially if he’s lugging around that giant Star Wars book to pass the time. Maybe I should get him a Kindle.
These are the bowels of my lives, people. The bowels of my lives.