The Poop Chronicles

Friday was the end of week 7 with the preschoolers. And a week with the preschoolers includes a lot of poop. I do not generally consider myself a poop coneseiur of any kind but living with MK for the past nine months has given me enough exposure to at least moonlight, so here goes.

Not only do I work with preschoolers but I work with the littlest ones. They are the cutest ones and the ones that sleep the most and the ones with the most interesting speech patterns and habits. And they wear diapers.

I would love to tell you that I believe my own children will never poop, or that I will potty train them pre-delivery but unfortunately, in this arena, I am quite the realist. Kids poop. Kids also sometimes have questionably gross motor skills. One kid at the preschool is adorably tall, and sturdy. Now, I use the word "sturdy" with caution. This is mostly because, once upon a time, a boy caused me a little pain and then told me he thought it'd be okay because I was so sturdy. Calling a 18 year old girl sturdy? bad idea. This kid though, is sturdy. He is only three but comes up past my hip and weighs at least 40 or 50 pounds. His height has made him impressively clumsy.

Last week he needed to poop (again, you spend nine hours a day with children and they eventually have to use the bathroom) and decided he could wipe himself. The way he showed me? Gracefully flinging some poo covered TP in the direction of my skirt (think ribbon dancing). When I asked him why he put it so near my body he replied, "I didn't. It came out on it's own". Questionable.

Yesterday I managed to have a conversation spanning the entire day only about bodily functions. And a lot of poop. Poop. Poop. Poop. Some how I doubt my new room mate at the new college will appreciate all my poop talk.