So young Bill is having toilet issues. He knows how to use it, when to use it and what to do when he’s done. He’s a peeing champion. The other part, not so much. Maybe it’s the fact that he subsists on yogurt and refined crackers, with chicken nuggets and fish sticks being the most complete protein. Maybe it’s that he’s just not quite sure when he’s really ready and starts too far in advance. But whatever it is, something has gone horribly wrong. Remember those Play-Doh factories you had as a kid (and if you have a kid now, are still playing with now. So sorry)? You’d shove an impossibly large wad of that stuff into the tiny hole, press down on the lever, and it would slowly, slowly, slowly with all of your effort make it’s way out again in the shape of a star or a flower? That’s William’s ass, but without the novelty shape and fabulous Play-Doh scent.
His pooping is an epic journey, The Odyssey and The Illiad but with less warring, sea faring and pillaging. Unfortunately his ass does not publish a Cliff’s Notes edition to speed things up and get to the gist. No, no. This is a many hour event. I think “Roots” can be watched in less time than William in the bathroom. (And yes, I’ve just upped his fiber and water, so please wait until an even worse post before calling CPS).
Wiping your own butt can be tiring after doing it for an hour straight. The other night William emerged naked from his bathroom and climbed onto me for a hug and presumably to rest and recharge for the next round. Which is when I caught sight of his back. There was not a smidge, or a smudge. This was full on ass pate. If I’d had a cracker and a death wish I could have scraped that shit off and dined like a king.
“William,” I said calmly, gently yet urgently pushing him away. “You need to go wipe your butt.” “NOOOOOOOOOOOO,” he responded. I attempted to reason with him, as he spun in a circle like a dog trying to catch it’s tail but instead was a three-year-old trying to catch sight of his dirty booty. Then our babysitter had the brilliant idea of photographing his behind and presenting him with the evidence. If you’d told me, well ever, that I’d be using Apple iPhone technology to incriminate my child with a photograph of his shit-smeared ass, I’d have told you you were crazy. But as it turns out, it’s crazy brilliant. Confronted with the evidence, he went back to work.
Our babysitter, meanwhile, emailed me the photo with the message “Thought you might want this. He’s only three once!” “Thank god,” I wrote back. But then I realized that this singular photo could be a blessing in disguise, like the time a casual acquaintance of my husband’s brought a hooker to our house for a BBQ. Yes, a hooker. Rhonda. Now that I’ve finished Lysol-ing the house, Rhonda has become to the answer to every question from my husband and the momentum for every request. “Susanna, why is the credit card bill so high?” Rhonda! “Did you run the errands I asked?” Rhonda! “Hey, baby, how about some……” Rhonda! Yes, nothing stops a good man in his tracks like the reminder of a friend bringing a hooker to your home while your kids were present. Oh and those gorgeous diamond earrings I admired? Rhonda! Rhonda is the answer to every question, the end of every argument. So may be this picture.
The annoying stranger who comes up to me when my kids are being difficult and tells me that one day I’ll miss these special times? BAM! Out comes the shit picture. For every “they’re only this young once”-ers…shit picture! When William later on thinks I’m not telling him the truth, out comes the picture! I can just see myself saying “Bill, remember when you thought your butt was clean and I told you it wasn’t? Why would I lie to you now?” Bribery down the line is an option too. I can just keep this little picture on my phone forever, ready to upload on to whatever social networking site is in use when he’s in high school. Don’t like his grades or homecoming date or room cleanliness? Shit picture! With all of the parenting and marriage tools at my disposal in the modern world, who would have thought a hooker and a poop-smeared ass photo would be my best weapons?
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