Posts Tagged ‘
potty humor ’
Monday, April 29th, 2013
2 years, 5 months.
Mommy and I recently bought you a 3-pack of Play-Doh that looks like Neapolitan chocolate chip ice cream.
After you experimented with it for a little while, transforming your plastic horsey into a dinosaur, and using the brown Play-Doh as mud that your monster trucks drive over and “got stuck” in, you eventually wandered off into the bathroom.
I was curious as to what was going on in there, but I gave you a few minutes of privacy.
Then you called for me…
As soon as I opened the door, you announced, “Hey Daddy, I make snacks for the kids!”
My favorite part about that moment wasn’t even the fact that your potty bowl was being used as the serving tray for the Play-Doh “ice cream” for young consumers.
Instead, it was that you assumed the role of the adult, and you assumed that “the kids,” who evidently are other kids your age, look forward to the glorious (and sanitary) ice cream treats you have waiting for them in the bathroom.
I try to picture a dozen 2 year-olds lining up at our front door, eager to get a taste of the delicious soft serve ice cream you serve from your potty.
You were so proud.
In your mind, you were quite the heroic adult.
Monday, July 23rd, 2012
I’m so proud. Over the weekend someone found The Dadabase by Googling, “Is it ok for son to watch dad pee?”
I’m becoming the go-to guy for that now on the Internet.
Nice. Just call me Mr. Oversharent.
It’s inevitable that by the time your kid reaches my son’s age, you can only be so classy and sophisticated; potty humor is definitely in heavy rotation in the conversations now at our house.
By default, your maturity level as a parent of a toddler has to drop in order to do the job right.
Normally in public or on the Internet I wouldn’t use words like “pee-pee” or “poo poo” or even notice that one of those phrases sort of requires a hyphen while the other does not.
But as a parent speaking to other fellow parents, whether in private or in public, it becomes necessary to resort to these types of topics if I want to keep a natural and relevant conversation flowing.
(Yes, “flowing” was used as a pun just then.)
Beyond talking about the current color of Number One or the consistency of Number Two, I still find myself thinking like a much less mature version of myself.
Yes, I do myself a favor by trying to mentally time travel back to what my thought process was like in the early 80′s.
I have to. How else will I help my son keep himself constantly entertained?
Like actually encouraging him to play with a cup of ice water and a plastic spoon when we’re out at restaurants. It’s a great distraction for him while his parents attempt to eat.
Or during playtime at the house, telling him, “Look Jack, the chicken likes to ride on top of the pig, and the pig likes to ride on top of the cow, and the cow likes to ride on top of the horse.”
After demonstrating to my son how his plastic barnyard animal toys like to move around the farm, the way things obviously occurs in nature, Jack then repeats the moronic behavior I just taught him; animals moving across the floor like a vertical train.
Though technically, that’s not immature, it’s just plain absurd. It clearly denies gravity and physics; I’m pretty sure.
The point is this: The new version of normal once you become the parent of a toddler means you embraces potty humor and weird Willy Wonka kind of stuff.
This parenthood thing is turning into one long, strange trip. I think I see dancing bears in all the colors of the rainbow.
Never mind, that’s just my son’s coloring book.
Tuesday, July 10th, 2012
*Warning: Contains oversharenting.
Early this morning I was getting ready to leave the house to take my son Jack to his doctor at Vanderbilt when I explained to him:
“Wait, son. I need to go pee-pee first.”
I left the bathroom door open so I could make sure he didn’t charge towards the potentially dangerous staircase, which he never does. Instead, he walked up to me, standing just far enough away from the toilet to be in the safe zone.
Jack watched the “waterfall” go into the potty in amazement and wonder. I felt he needed a sophisticated commentary.
“See, son. Pee-pee is coming out of Dada’s… hose.”
That’s the best I could come up with, given the lack of sleep I received because of him waking up at 3:30 AM due to his fever.
But hey, I was just trying to relate it to something he could appreciate. And knowing that Jack loves playing with the water hose, it made the most sense in that split-second, unplanned moment.
I saw the yearning in his eyes: I could tell that my son totally wants to “spray his hose” into the potty.
To seal the deal properly, as I flushed the toilet I waved goodbye to the potty water as I emphatically proclaimed, “Bye bye, pee-pee! Bye bye!”
(Because Jack says “bye-bye” to everyone and everything, I knew he would appreciate this.)
My wife and I are in no hurry to potty train our child. I just want to plant that seed in his mind, though. I want to him to know that when he’s a little bit older, he will have the privilege of getting to do what Dada does.
I want him to believe that he’s missing out. And after seeing his reactions to my recent habit of glorifying going pee-pee in the potty, I think my plan is working.
Here lately Jack is indeed growing more aware of “pee-pee” anyway. He has this new thing he will do at the house where he will announce to me:
He’s literally letting me know that it’s time for me to change his diaper.
But because of his inability to make all the vowel sounds so far, “poo-poo” is pronounced the same as “pee-pee.”
Either way, I’m impressed by his new trick. My toddler actually tells me when it’s time to change his diaper.
The days of me mindlessly changing his diapers and him being unaware of why I’m doing it are over. Now he knows why!
I think he deserves a trendy Pee-Pee Awareness ribbon just for that alone.
Categories: Deep Thoughts, Growing Up, Home Life, Must Read, Story Bucket, Storytelling, The Dadabase | Tags: diapers, going to the bathroom, oversharenting, potty humor, potty training, TMI
Monday, June 13th, 2011
Here at The Dadabase, I try to keep things classy, but it doesn’t help when Jack would rather keep them gassy.
I only know what it’s like to have a little boy. If my wife and I ever have a daughter, I’m sure things will be dramatically different. One of the main differences I wonder about is if baby girls are as gassy as my son.
Males are expected to be funny. And Jack definitely is. Even as a newborn with closed eyes who slept most of the time, Jack made a habit of breaking the ice (by breaking the wind) with every new person who would hold him. It was his way of saying, “Hi, nice to meet you.” A bit of an initiation for each new person, as well.
Nearly seven months later, Jack’s still practicing his potty humor. Last Sunday as I was driving home after church, my wife reminded me that we needed to stop the car for gas. Right on cue, Jack did his part to help: “Ppppffffffthhh…”.
Later that day, I was holding Jack out on the front porch, letting him gaze at the sheep farm across the street. One of the farm workers pulled up in a red pick-up truck. He had the windows open and the radio on. A Pat Benetar song was playing: “Hit me with your best shot… Fire away!”
So Jack did. Like he actually knew what he was doing.
I can’t keep from laughing out loud at his gas antics, especially when we make conversation with Jack and his response is simply “ppppffffffthhh…”. It’s as if to say to us, “You know what I think about that…?”
In his head, he has already associated his “gas leaks” with humor. Even when he’s not feeling himself, I can make the (in)appropriate sound with my mouth, and without fail, Jack immediately starts laughing out loud. Sure, I’ll eventually have to teach him to behave properly in public as he gets old enough to understand manners and self-control. But until then, Jack gets a free pass on passing gas.
And I guess that’s one of the many reasons that children take us back to a more carefree place. Without worrying about social expectations, without having to appear to always keep it all together, without a necessary world of concerns, children ultimately remind us of a time when the biggest problem in life was that Teddy Ruxpin’s size D batteries needed to be replaced.
For what it’s worth, it took four of those stupid batteries.
Categories: Growing Up, Home Life, Story Bucket, Storytelling | Tags: baby, embarrassing, fatherhood, funny, gas, gas leak, parenting, Pat Benetar, potty humor, Storytelling, Teddy Ruxpin