Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Super Pooper Powers



Super Pooper Powers

Children are great. They are often fun, occasionally agree they like something twice in a row, and like to live life dangerously. This usually consists in spinning in a circle with their arms straight out in the hopes they will “accidentally” hit one of their siblings in the head before they succumb to dizziness and crash land, but I digress.

The truth of the matter is, your children were born with super powers. Innate abilities that are present in childhood, but lose their efficacy or appeal at some point in the mystical transition to adulthood. Today, I will discuss one of them. Pooper powers.

Now, my tenure as a parent is somewhat limited, but from what I can see, pooper powers extend from birth to at least seven.

Ghost poop. I dont know how they do it, but sometimes, after they do their business they are mysteriously clean. This never works for me. I am not sure if it is an issue of technique, maybe I need to try their famous Precipice Position. You know, the one where it looks like they are going to fall in any moment. Anyway, this one is just downright spooky.

CDR. Clean diaper response. This ability is found in infants, especially newborns, and seems to go the way of bellbottoms by the time they are ready to potty train. You go to change the kid, they are poopy as always, and within moments of securing the new diaper they get that look in their eye. You know the one I mean, its where they cross one eye, clench their fists, and do their best constipated seal impression. This usually results a changing of the diaper, second verse same as the first. I think there is a scientific term for this. They call it an aftershock, or maybe it was a secondary eruption. I forget.

The important poop. This is the ability of your children to have to go poop whenever you are late for something. Dr. appointment? They have to poop. School? Poop. Time to go to grandmas. Time to poop. Time for a new baby to be born? Not before they poop. This ability seems to be closely linked to the “where are my shoes” phenomenon.

POD. We live in a world of instant gratification. We can go online and get answers, not necessarily the right ones, to almost any question. We have movies on demand. We can buy any worthless item we want at the store, and if not, there is always ebay. My children can poop on demand. This power is one that they reserve for one of two situations. Time out, and bedtime. Put a child in time out, and watch the bodily function go. They could have gone poop four times in the last 13 minutes already from prior time outs and somehow, some way, they will still need to go. Likewise, bedtime seems to bring out the worst in them, if you get my drift. Something about the relining position must stimulate their bowels. As parents what are we to do? I have cleaned poop off carpet. Not fun. Ranks up there with shaving kangaroos and eating snails. So we let them go. They know they have us, you can see it in their expressions. Perhaps the most shocking thing is their ability to produce and require the wipe.

Extended poop. This ability is triggered by the presence of another child who desires to poop. I suspect that a mathematical proof could be presented quantifying the relationship between the time it takes to unload and the number of siblings who are waiting to use the john. Seriously, we need another toilet. Maybe a two seater. Surely we can convert an old stroller or something.

At some point these powers lose their power. We no longer have a desire to fill our britches on command. We don't want to get up after going to sleep and do number two 5 more times.  We hurry for the person who is waiting, and we always have to wipe. Maybe one day, these powers will return. Butt until then, the power lies in the hands, the small hands, the busy hands, the don't touch your sister hands, of my children.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Can't Catch Me, I'm the Gingerbread Man

The holidays are a great time of year.  Good food, good family, and school projects.  The seven year old, again, the oldest, came home from school the other day with yet another completed project.  He was excited, showed it to my wife and went about his business playing with legos or something.  After a few minutes my wife asked if I had looked at the project.  I confessed I had not and she encouraged me to take a look.  I asked what it was and she said that they had decorated a picture of a gingerbread man at school.  Thus armed with great expectations I moseyed over to the table to take a look.

Now, when we think of gingerbread men what comes to mind?  Shrek has forever imprinted the standard stereotype on our minds of something that looks like this:  


I envision something cute and delicious.  Gumdrop buttons, eyes, mouth, frosting filigree, the works.   So good in fact, that a fox will try and eat one instead of his more traditional fare of chicken.


There is my gratuitous chicken photo to add space between their gingerbread man and that of my child.  You have to admit, this chicken is doing a fine job of being disguised. The real question here is if the fox will try and eat him anyway.  I figure a hungry fox would go for a flamingo, kinda like a chicken covered in cotton candy.

This was not the sight that awaited me.  This is how my son decorated the gingerbread man:

At first I didn't really know what I was looking at.  I mean, I could tell he was smiling, and he had eyes, but I was having trouble figuring out why he had a giant blue dot on his forehead.  Then, it began to dawn on me.  I scanned the picture looking for the telltale signs that the random scribbles of color were indeed purposeful and direct.  Yep, there they were.  Blue for the nerve system including the eyes, red for veins leading from the red heart and purple veins to return blood, brown for the lungs, and yellow for the urinary tract.  There is even the outline of a stomach in there.

Close up of the head: Its the little details that make it special.  The tongue, the red around the eyes, pupils, the dark creases in the blue brain.

And now the body:  Note the irregular shape of the heart, the stomach, and the shape of the lungs.  Not sure why the urinary system extends all the way up to his shoulders but clearly he has the right idea.

I asked him if the other kids decorated their gingerbread man this way.  He said no.  I can only imagine what parent teacher conferences will be like.  I am beginning to see the proof of parentage, this is my son.  One thing is for sure, if a fox is trying to eat the gingerbread man from Shrek and the one my son made, my money is on my sons.  With a heart like that he could run forever.