How Not to Potty Train Your Child

Last weekend BJ was working in the yard when he came across an unsightly mess that was sure to end up on the bottom of a child's shoe if not taken care of quickly - dog poop. I'm hesitant to admit there's always a fair amount of dog poop in our yard. In our defense, we have had a child (often two) in diapers for seven years now. A person can only be expected to deal with so much poop right? In our poo-weariness, we often neglect to clean up the yard as often as respectable homeowners should.

When BJ scooped the offending waste into a bag and whisked it out of sight our two year old was enthralled. Moments later BJ caught our little guy across the yard bending down to do a little pooper-scooping of his own. Swooping in to prevent him from grabbing a turd with his bare hand, BJ picked him up with a, "Yucky!" He made a big show of removing this second land mine with another bag and returned to mowing the lawn. 

Which brings us to yesterday. Please keep in mind I knew nothing about the lesson my little guy had received from BJ. I was cleaning up lunch when a familiar odor wafted through the kitchen. It was obvious our little guy was the culprit, so I asked him, "Are you poopy buddy? Need Mommy to change your diaper?" 

"Yucky!" was his one-word reply. 

"Poopy?" I asked again.

"Yucky!" he proudly declared. 

This back and forth continued as we made our way down the hall to his room. I decided "yucky" was as good a word as any for the situation. 

We sat on the floor together and I changed his diaper while we repeated his new word over and over again. "Yucky." "YUCKY." "Yucky!" Never one to miss a teachable moment I decided to turn our vocabulary lesson into a life skills class. 

"Should we put your yucky in the potty buddy?"

"YUCKY!"

"Ok, here we go, can you lift the lid of the potty?"

(Lifting lid) "Yucky."

"Mommy's going to put the poop in the potty now, say 'bye-bye yucky'."

"Bye-bye yucky."

"Great job! Can you flush the potty?" 

"Yucky go bye-bye!" 

"Yes, buddy! Yucky go bye-bye. That's what we do with poop buddy. We put it in the potty." 

Triumphant, we washed hands and I got back to washing dishes. A full 5 minutes had passed when I heard a pint-sized commotion from the hall bathroom. 

I opened the door to the bathroom just in time to see a fully-clothed two year old closing the toilet lid.

"What are you doing buddy!?" I asked, lifting the lid. 

Huddled in the depths of the bowl was a small, misshapen lump. 

My initial thought was that another of my kids had neglected to flush. My split-second later thought was that all the other kids were outside with BJ.

I grabbed his hand.

Streaks.

I smelled his tiny hand.

Oh dear heaven. 

It was suddenly crystal clear that my sweet child had gone outside and searched the yard until he found this treasure. Then he had carefully carried it inside and put it where all the yuckies go.

Because that's what we do with poop buddy.

We put it in the potty.