The Magic Ticket

Cookie from the bathroom: I’ve finished pooping.  Who’s going to come and wipe my butt?

Me: Paper.

Mommy: Rock.

Cookie, we can’t wait until your arms are long enough to reach your butt, but fortunately, Mommy always chooses rock first.

Me:  Looks like, you’re up.

Mommy: Awwww…

Cookie: Who won?

Mommy:  Daddy did.

Cookie:  Oh, good, Daddy won the ticket to wipe my butt.

Me:  Wait…  That’s not how it works.

Infantile Flatulence Foolery

Cookie: Daddy, my butt itches.  I have a rash and need ointment.

Daddy: Cookie, your butt looks fine.

Cookie: No, it itches.  Look closer.

*looks closer*


Cookie: Haha! Got you, Daddy!

Three reactions instantly popped into my head.

First, argggbublglglglglgglgl!  I never got over how ungodly, eye-watering stenches could emanate from such a cute baby.  (Yes, my nose was blessedly fortunate as you were toilet trained at about the time your pea soup diaper deposits were changing, so no, I never got used to the smell.)

Second, immense pride.  As one practical joker to another, that was truly impressive for toddler that hadn’t even turned two.  I can’t believe that you concocted the entire sequence and then set me up with a completely straight face.  After many years of witnessing guys making uninspired attempts of “smell this,” being caught like this by my beautiful little daughter was AWESOME.

Third, I didn’t know this side existed for girls.  Sugar and spice aside, you’ll soon be in a world where women hide the existence of necessary bodily functions for months in a relationship.  Advice for the future you: don’t.  A guy who can’t appreciate the humor isn’t worth the trouble.

As you may have noticed, Cookie, many of these first posts are of a scatological nature.  Eating and pooping are very important to new parents (Many websites and doctors recommend digital scales.  For the baby!  Ew.), and since Mommy was primarily in charge of inputs in your early life (I lack the functional equipment to assist in that department  –Mommy insisted on feeding from the tap), I was primarily in charge of outputs.  At least that’s my excuse.  It has nothing to do with my immature sense of humor whatsoever.  Those high fives that I may or may not have given you when you let one near Mommy after this particular episode?  Didn’t happen.  Not that you can prove, anyway.

Potty Lies, Part 3

A few months later, you figured it out –Mommy knew you didn’t have to pee because peeing is part of your bedtime ritual.

So, after picking you up from your toys in the living room, after your bedtime ritual, we put you to bed.  All is quiet for a little while, until the monitor chirps, and you’re dancing on your crib.

Cookie:  Mommy!  Daddy!  Take me to the bathroom to poo!  Take me to the bathroom to poo!

Mom: Scissors.

Me: Paper.  *sigh*

Me: Coming, Cookie!

As soon as your butt touches the toilet, however, you grin.

Cookie: I’m all done!  Let’s go play!

Nothing had come out.

Me: Cookie, you can’t lie to us.  You can’t tell us you need to poo if you don’t have to go!

Cookie:  I didn’t lie, Daddy.  I never said the poo was coming.

Potty Lies, Part 2

One night when you were 14 or 15 months old (sleep deprivation has really destroyed my memory), we picked you up from your toys, started your bedtime ritual, and put you to bed.

Over the monitor, we could hear you complaining.  “Mommy!  Mommy!  Mommy!  I don’t want to sleep.  I want to play.  I want to play with my toys in the living room.  It’s too early to go to bed.  I want to play!”

After a few minutes, Mommy got annoyed and answered over the monitor, “Cookie, it’s time for bed.  You’re done playing for tonight.”

On the monitor, we saw your grumpy frown as you settled down on your crib.  However, your head barely touched the pillow before you jumped up again.

“I have to pee.  I have to pee.  I have to pee!”  We could see you potty dancing over the monitor.

Mommy was fed up a this point.  “Cookie, you do not have to pee.  Lie down.  Close your eyes.  Go to sleep.”

With a cute frown on your face, we saw you slowly lie down.  The monitor was silent for a while until a whisper.

“How did she know?”