OCD and Chocolate Grapes!

Okay, I have been asked from numerous persons to relay this story involving my 3 year old son.
This goes out to all you parents in the audience who can appreciate my hysterical laughter as I try to write this down.

My son is in the process of potty training. It’s a long and drawn out process in which patience in not only a virtue, but a requirement for the course. You also have to have a since of humor…not only for potty training but for all parenting things. No humor equals dead children…and the state looks down on that.

Well, Aiden, my son, is making big strides in the world of potty training. He can get out of his clothes, put the training seat on the toilet, push the stepping stool up to the potty, pee on the potty, wipe off his doo-dad, and flush the toilet. Yet, he only pees on it. That seems to be the easy part of potty training. It’s the pooping on the potty that seems to take some finagling. So for the moment he still goes in his pull-ups. That’s okay for the here and now as he makes it simple by bringing my the wipes and a new pull-up to let me know he needs a changing.

There is one thing I should also mention about my son and…well, me as well. Aiden is very meticulous and he borders on obsessive compulsive (as do I as well). He doesn’t want anything yucky to touch his hands. It took him until last year to even get a feel for playing in the dirt. It would get on his hands and he would be upset…it’s funny when I tell other people, but not so much when I’m trying to calm him down and rushing to clean off his hands.

So…the scene is set and I shall spin my yarn for you.

It was a day like any other day. I had been pulling out my hair all day long because siblings fight…constantly. Who knew?

Aiden and his older sister had been relatively quiet for a short while when my son brings me the wipes and a new pull-up.

“Are you stinky?” I ask him. He looks up at me and then just plops down on the floor to be changed. I sigh. He isn’t much of a talker either and would rather show than tell.

Anyway, when I remove his pants and rip open the pull-up I wasn’t surprised that it was poopy. Ah, but not just any kind of poop. It was a group of pebble turds that kids have from time to time that make you think…damn, did you eat a bag of marbles?

Well, I grab a wipey and tell him to lift up his butt so I can remove the clothe of shit-balls. What I didn’t think to do was to remove the cluster of them caught between his nads and his inner thigh. So when he threw his legs back the cluster flew off and smacked him on the cheek.

…hold on I have to laugh this out…

Okay, let me remind you about his dislike for yucky. I’m laughing hysterically and trying to collect all the little turd balls and stick a new pull-up on him…and he’s freaking out!

“Oh, Mamma…poopy!” He’s wiping at his face with a wipey I handed him as if his face was melting.

It took about 30 minutes and a good face scrubbing to calm him down.

God, I love my kids!