Poop It Out, Little Man!!

This little guy loves leaves but bashes bathrooms. I am a good writer.

   Guys, here's the deal: Wyatt hates pooping. It is easily his least favorite thing about being a person. He hates it so much he'll postpone it as long has he can. I've talked about this a little, but let's really delve deep into the issues here.

   One of the best things about having a little kid is how freely and often you get to talk about these sorts of things. When you are in middle school or college and want to make fart jokes, there best not be an adult or mom around. But now?! Talking about a toddler?! It's all fair game again!!

This is the face Wyatt makes when we tell him he'll be happy if he just poops.
I love that I get to write the word "poop" so much.

   When Wyatt was a little baby, he had a couple of big hard poops. I had to help them out, actually, pinching through the diaper. This taught him that pooping is scary and painful and he has avoided it as much as he can. He holds it in. His record is 13 days. I am not kidding. It made local news as "Wyatt Watch 2014" and they had one of those graphic calendars that started counting on day 9. He spends days in constant motion, even just rocking side-to-side, because he knows once he stops moving he'll be in pain and need to poop. He doesn't like to poop.

   Which is crazy, right? If I were to ask you (which I would), I'd bet you'd list pooping as one of the best parts of your day, if you really stopped to think about it. Which you now are. Thinking about it. Gross. And little boys potty-train so easy. Wyatt LOVES going #1 outside. He rightly knows that is one of the best things about being a guy. We'll be 5 feet from the bathroom, he'll have to go pee, and scream "Wy go pee!" and run outside. One time at Costco he had to go, so we just dropped his shorts by some Arborvitae bushes that were for sale and let him go. Then we bought some other ones for our fence. Pee is no problems. Poo is the problem. (My lawyers are telling me that I should put in a disclaimer: That Costco story is not true. But one day, it will be.)

   We've given him laxatives and lots of juice, we've fed him the right foods and kept him moving. Nothing. So please don't call me with your advice for how to get a kid to poop. Call Cara. She loves that stuff.

Wyatt sleeping while watching George on the Kindle. He gets to play on Dad's iPad when he ... you know ... does that thing. When he doesn't he has to play on a Kindle like a sucker.

   Well, go back to September. Wyatt got a star-balloon for his birthday. It was a balloon in the shape of a star. He loved it and slept with it and took it everywhere and wouldn't let us help him hold it on walks. One day he and I were walking and it got caught on a light-pole and pulled out of his grasp. He yelled, I lunged for it, then scaled the light pole to the top, then jumped from the top to grab it. It was just beyond my reach. I fell softly to the ground with only a bird in my hand to show for my efforts. None of this is true except that he lost his balloon to a light-pole.

   He cried for days. And weeks later, he'd ask me to go driving around, looking for his star balloon. I mean, this was his first real loss, yknow?! Well, that and he's lost every time we've ever raced. But when he'd ask for a star-balloon, he knew in the back of his mind he could get a new one if he'd just go poop in the potty. (The whole "in the potty" part is quite critical, really.)

   I'd say "Wy, do you know how you can get a new star balloon?" He'd stop crying and pause, then sigh and say "Yeah, Wy poop in potty. Wy no want star balloon." His love of the balloon was outweighed by his fear of the poop. This was in the midst of his 13-day marathon.

   When he finally went, all tired and shaking and red and crying and scared, he sat on the potty traumatized. Then he stopped, got brief glimmer of hope in his eye, and weakly said "Star balloon?!"

   We've made a lot of progress since then. Now he goes about once every three or four days, no longer holds it in to the point he gets streaks in his underwear (wish he'd teach me this trick), and doesn't fight it and cry when the dirty deed is starting. We have hope that we can get this thing nailed down before New Wyatt comes in a month. That's the baby's name, we think. New Wyatt.

Wyatt and mom, both happy to have pooped. I mean... wait, what?

Wyatt's mood: bit of an earache *sadface*
My mood: can't wait for a 4-day weekend.
Cara's mood: "I was walking today and I thought the baby was just going to fall out."
Listening to: More Than Just A Dream like a million times.

Fun With The Sun!!

Wyatt, sleeping in his rather palatial bed. One of three, really.

   Recently, Wyatt became absolutely enthralled with the rising and setting of the sun. I mean, every day we are aware of the following three things: If the sun is up, if it's getting dark fast, or if it is dark.

   One day, late in the summer, we were at the park. All the big kids were playing, and lately Wyatt has loved making friends with the big kids at the park. (He'll walk up to some big kids that are playing. He'll stand silently, about 4 feet from them, and look at them. He'll look at me, smile, and point to the big kids. Then he'll say "These my friends!" It doesn't always progress to him making friends beyond this stage.) The big kids, all at once, left. We needed to leave too. Wyatt asked why, and I said "It's going to get dark soon!"

   He. Was. In. Awe. How did I know? I could predict the light? I said "Look over at the sun!" (Disclaimer: This is not always good advice.) He saw that it was setting, and immediately understood.

Wyatt's learned how to "cheese" for pictures, meaning his smiles are now more just like dental examinations. Also, he complained about splinters FOR DAYS.

   That night there was a fantastic sunset. I sat in a chair in the middle of my driveway and watched it all, and he ran around me, watching too. He pointed out every color, and how the colors would change every couple of minutes. SPOILER ALERT. Then it got dark.

   He. Was. So. Sad. Where'd the sun go?! And all the pretty colors!? We had to leave the park and the colors left and it got dark. His sadness was palpable. I quickly told him the sun would come up tomorrow. 

   He. Was. So. Relieved. We talked about the sun coming up tomorrow all night long. Bet your bottom dollar. 

   This cycle has been on repeat for well over a month now. Every day it's all about the sun and what it's doing. Luckily, we've had the greatest October in US history here in Eugene, and it's been warm, bright, and dry. I worry about what this kid's going to do when the sky turns grey for the coming winter, which will probably last eleven years.

   But in the meantime, he wakes up every morning happy that the sun is up. Pretty much every day since has started like this:

   He just wakes up extremely happy that (a) the sun is up, and (b) one of his parents is around. It's quite wonderful. Sure, he was sad that mom was going to work, but he waits for her a bit like a lovesick puppy. And he had a great time at church (I think. I just drop him off for some childcare and then go play Keno).

My mood: meh
Wy's mood: it's dark.
Cara's feeling: acid reflux
Listening to: Powerline. No, seriously.