While I'm wiping her bum and various other appendages and body parts after a minor poosplosion (thanks to the bug she caught last week):
"You're such a good helper, Daddy."I appreciate her appreciation, you know? And there's something about the way she said it that kind of tugged at my heartstrings . . . that suggested that if everyone just helped out, it would all be okay. Sure, she freaked out a little when poo started coming out the bottom of her pants, and maybe some of the rest of us freaked out a little bit too. But the tears were brief, and Addison verbalized what I'm sure all of us were thinking:
"We can do this, together."Some communities tear themselves apart when faced with overwhelming (poo) obstacles; individuals undermine the whole through desperate, animal acts of self-preservation (Get it away! Get it away!). But Addison seemed to understand that a community threat (Holy crap, it's getting everywhere!) can be a catalyst for growth, that if people could rally together for a common cause (Pick her up! To the tub!), and not succumb to their basest inclinations (I'm gonna puke . . . ) they might come out the other side stronger than ever (perhaps . . . cleaner than ever).
Potty training is supposed to be simple, right? Stuff goes in, stuff comes out. But for me, managing the stuff that comes out is no further than third on the list of things that I have obsessed over as a parent. It's taught me a lot about myself, and about life. Second is probably managing the stuff that goes in. First is sleep, the holy grail of parenting, for both us and the kid.