Skip to main content

The Poop Chair



The temperature today began at about 60 degrees so we threw open the doors and windows to catch a cross-breeze. Fresh air. Wipe out the doldrums in the house, and diffuse the smell of paint and dust from remodeling.

Never you mind about my swollen eyes and burning nose.

We sat happily at the table, coloring. Patience, as usual, drew an elaborate picture-story. Today, hers was all about her adventure in Care Bear Land with Wish Bear and Twinkers (yes, big fan of Care Bears' Big Wish Movie). She had herself floating on a cloud, surrounded by shooting stars and hearts. My favorite part has to be the bright green fireflies, flying with lighted streaks.

Persistance isn't much past the scribble stage but she did an admirable job of making the school calendar in this month's newsletter much more colorful and interesting.

I reveled in the fact that My Plan was Working: we were Bonding! Having Fun! Doing Good Things! In other words, no mischief or naughtiness, I mean excitement or adventure. Best of all, Persistance had ceased That Noise, the Great Big Noisy Fuss that she has had on constantly since umm Wednesday.

Suddenly, Persistance stood up in her chair.

"Sit down, Miss Pers," I said, "Be safe and sit down."

"Beeeee AHHHHH!" she told me.

"I hear you," I said, "But you need to sit down to be safe."

"Uhhhh UUUUHHHHHH!" she insisted.

I took a closer look. "Ah ha," I said, "You took off your diapah. You have bare bum!"

"BUM!" she said triumphantly, grabbing the body part under discussion. "DIAPAH! NO!"

Then she pointed to the chair, "MINE!"

"Your chair," I agreed.

She giggled, a little too...coquetishly. I squinted my eyes at her. She squinted back.

"Mine BOOOOOO!"

I stood up, walked around the table, peered down.

And I saw it.

Poop.

In the chair.

Under my standing, naked toddler's bum.

She giggled again.

I now heard the distinction between B and P when she reiterated, "MIIINNNEEE POOOOOO!"

"No sit 'ere!" she announced.

"I guess not," I agreed, shoulders slumping as I considered the mess, and where to begin."

"MAMA, 'oot!" She declared, sticking out her foot, which had stepped in the poo.

As good a place to begin as any, I decided. Carrying her by the armpits, we headed to the bathroom.

I thought, "I know what road good intentions pave," and mentally giggled.

By Julie Pippert
Artful Media Group
Museum Quality Digital Art and Photography
Limited Edition Prints
Artful by Nature Fine Art and Photography Galleries

© 2006. All images and text exclusive property of Julie Pippert. Not to be used or reproduced.

Comments

Run ANC said…
Ummmm... YUCKY! I am very glad right now that The Boy has not discovered that diapers are, technically, an option. I plan to keep that information to myself for as long as possible.

Popular posts from this blog

Cancer's Calling Card

Foreword: I'm not a medical person, or any kind of expert. This post shouldn't be taken as God's word carved in stone by Moses. In other words, don't consider it to be any kind of authority or use it to treat, diagnose, or select medications. Do your own research and talk to your doctor, an actual expert, who, you know, went to medical school and stuff. This post is merely my best understanding of cancer and cancer treatment and prevention, as related to our situation, based on what I've learned from reading and talking to doctors. Author's Note: If you aren't interested in the cancer discussion and the things I learned, and only want to know the outcome of our appointment with the oncologist yesterday, skip to the end. I've divvied this up by sections, so go to the last section. What would you do if one day a postcard arrived in the mail to warn you that sometime in the next three years you would be diagnosed with cancer? Would you believe it? Change an...

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Quorum

After being confronted with written evidence, Julie admits that she is a total attention whore. In some things, in some ways, sometimes I look outward for validation of my worth and existence. I admit it. It's my weak spot, my vanity spot . If you say I am clever, comment on a post, offer me an award, mention me on your blog, reply to a comment I left on your blog, or in any way flatter me as a writer...I am hopelessly, slavishly devoted to you. I will probably even add you to my blogroll just so everyone can see the list of all the cool kids who actually like me . The girl, she knows she is vain in this regard , but after much vanity discussion and navel-gazing , she has decided to love herself anyway, as she is (ironically) and will keep searching for (1) internal validation and (2) her first person . Until I reach a better point of self-actualization, though, may I just say that this week you people have been better than prozac and chocolate (together, with a side of white choc...

In defense of vanity...I think

Do you have one of those issues where you argue with yourself? Where you just aren't sure what you actually think because there are so many messages and opinions on the topic around you? I have more than one like this. However, there is one topic that has been struggling to the top of my mind recently: vanity and perceived vanity. Can vanity be a good thing? Vanity has historically been truly reviled. Vanity is number seven of the Seven Deadly Sins. It's the doppleganger of number seven on the Seven Holy Virtues list: humility. There are many moralistic tales of how vanity makes you evil and brings about a spectacular downfall. Consider the lady who bathed in the blood of virgins to maintain her youth. Google Borgia+vanity and find plenty. The Brothers Grimm and Disney got in on the act too. The Disney message seems to be: the truly beautiful don't need to be vain. They are just naturally eye-catchingly gorgeous. And they are all gorgeous. Show me the Reubenesque Princess. ...