I don’t want to embarrass anyone when they’re old enough to have their own online presence, so I’ll just say that there’s someone I live with, someone I know pretty well, someone very…small, who feels very fulfilled and satisfied when I am forced to admire his daily poops.
I’m sure this isn’t exactly a rare situation when you spend literally every waking moment with a person who has been wildly praised for each successful trip they’ve ever made to the facilities. Perhaps you’ve even done the same thing with your own small “friend”. My feeling is that as long as things are going smoothly in the potty training department, I’ll stand on my freaking head on the bathtub while whistling “Clocks”, if that’s what it takes to make them happy while they do their business.
My small friend prefers me to execute the same choreography and deliver the same lines each time we preform our little bathroom play. He even blocked the scene for me around a year ago, grasping me roughly by the hem of my shorts with one pudgy hand and pushing against my rear end with the other one, shouting, “YOU stand DERE,” while wedging me face first into the corner of our tiny bathroom. And woe to the adult who tries to go off book and do a little improvising!
It goes a little something like this: Once the poop has been completed in uninterrupted privacy I am summoned by a jarring bellow. It is then extremely important that I actually run to the bathroom, skidding to a stop right in front of the door, but not entering the bathroom. Upon arrival, the expression on my face must be a perfect blend of excitement, astonishment, and barely contained eagerness. My small friend is waiting for me with the lid of the commode tightly closed. The air is thick with suspenseful anticipation. No words are exchanged. I am not allowed to speak yet, but once my arrival is acknowledged I may cautiously approach the toilet. When I get there the lid is opened slowly as if it is a fabulous jewel encrusted chest recently unearthed from the wreck of the Titanic. “ta DAAAAAAA!!!” he shrieks. At this point I have to go completely bananas; distributing hugs, kisses, and lavish praise. Then I must stand respectfully back as the pronouncement is made.
“Dis poop look like…” and then he tells me what the clump of excrement resembles. It’s often an animal or something from a book we’ve been reading or a movie he likes. But once in a while he says something so unbelievable I feel the need to jot it down. After the poop has been described and I affirm the succinct and ingenious study and review, then (and ONLY then) bums can finally be wiped and the fantastical creation can be flushed. Sweet release.
And for your enjoyment here is a list* of things my friend’s poop has looked like.
*I know it might seems like I’ve doctored this list, but, hand to God, I have not changed a word. I am merely the transcriber. Please keep in mind that he poops once, sometimes twice a day, and has been doing so into the toilet for over a full year. I’ve carefully culled this list from many, many mundane and predictable descriptions, e.g. a brown snake, a brown hose, or a poopy octopus.
So without further ad0:
Dis poop look like…
- A hairy ghost
- A homeless leg
- Two sea otters taking a nap
- A glove with only two fingers
- A broken ladder
- Loud germs
- An elephant’s trunk that’s sad
- Wrinkled pizza