Malcolm pooped on the potty today, of his own accord!
As per usual, that is not the whole story.
Malcolm has been showing a lot of interest in the potty lately. Reading "Potty" by Leslie Patricelli (author of such riveting fare as "No No, Yes, Yes" and "Big Little"), reading "Elmo's Potty Book" and "cleaning" the toilet at every opportunity. Fortunately, he has started using a toilet brush instead of my toothbrush for that particular task.
It usually goes like this: I mention the bathroom in passing ("Daddy's in the bathroom.") and Malcolm says "Pwease, Mama, use potty!" Then he strips completely naked, including shedding his socks, sits on the potty, releases a little stream of pee, throws vast amounts of toilet paper into the potty for no reason other than he knows Lucy always puts toilet paper in after she pees, flushes and prances away happily, naked cheeks a-jiggling. Every time he poops, he tells me after he poops. When I am changing his diaper - which he fights like a rabid bear - I say "If you don't want me to change your diaper, then you have to tell me before you poop and you can poop in the potty!" Every time, every poop, for weeks I have been saying this.
Today, he lays on the floor and says "Mama, have poop!" So we tromp up the stairs, I get him on the changing table only to find there is no poop.
"Did you mean you need to poop?"
"Yes, Mama. Have POOP!"
"Oh! Okay! Let's go!"
We go to th bathroom. He strips naked and sits on the potty. He pees. "All done!"
"That wasn't poop, buddy, that's pee."
"Oh. Awight, Mama, awight. Bye."
"You want me to go?"
I leave. He locks the door. I go to his room and start folding laundry. He runs out three minutes later.
"Did you poop on the potty!"
"YES, MAMA, YES!"
I run into the bathroom and there is a perfect littl turd...on the floor in front of the toilet. I burst out laughing.
"Close, boy-o! So close! Next time sit on the potty to poop so it goes in the toilet!"
"Oh, okay, Mama, okay, awight, okay."
I clean up the poop, and take him to get wiped up and into a new diaper. As I clean him up, he says he has to poop. Okay, off to the potty again. He pees.
"That's pee, buddy. Pee comes out of your penis, poop comes out of your anus. It is different hole in in your bottom."
"Why hole in bottom?"
"So the poop can get out."
"Oh, okay, Mama. GO AWAY!"
"Uhhh...okay..." I leave, return to clothes folding. Fifteen second later, Malcolm comes running out of the bathroom again, looking slightly panic stricken.
"MAMA! POOOOOP! Put it back in!"
I look out in the hallway and he is running towards me, little chunks of poop falling out of his butt as he runs. Oh Lordy. I pick him up and put him on the potty so I can wipe him up.
"More poop. Go AWAY!"
Good lord, how much more can he produce? I leave him there with the suggestion that he sit on the potty while he poops, so the poop can go into the potty, then he can watch it flush down if he wants to. Good fun! He giggles a little, as if the suggestion is absurd.
"Ha! Okay Mama!"
I talk with Kevin for a bit, then go back up to get him dressed so we can go to the grocery store and then pick up Lucy from school.
The bathroom has a distinctly aromatic air. Malcolm is still sitting on the potty. There is a very big poop. IN the potty. Kevin and I clap and whoop like idiots. Malcolm smiles a sheepish, but clearly very proud, smile.
"Okay, awight, okay, Mama. Poop!"