Molli was still struggling to get over her illness tonight. She sounds like Brenda Vaccaro, her cough is deep and resonant, and her nose is just gushing. As it got near bedtime we let her run around in a an unsnapped onesy, with no diaper in case she wanted to use her tissepot.
Out of the blue she came up to me and jerked on my pant leg urgently.
“Wanna diaper,” she exclaimed, “wanna diaper on now!”
I figured that one out in a heartbeat. We were in the hallway in front of the bathroom.
“Do you want to sit on the toilet?” I asked. “Do you want to sit and make a stinky poo?”
Her answer was sort of non-commital, but I didn’t care: the look on her face and the squirm in her posture told me I was dealing with a ticking bomb. In a single fluid gesture I somehow managed to scoop her up, get the baby-seat set up on the toilet, and lower Molli almost comfortably onto the throne. Once she was down I kneeled in front of her and helped her get a little more comfy on the seat. Mere milliseconds later she looked up at me with astonished delight as the toilet bowl echoed with a plunk! plunk! plunk!
“Molli made stinky poo in toilet!” she gleefully exclaimed. She read the excitement on my own face, too, I think, and that jazzed her even more. “Molli made stinky poo in toilet! Wanna see, Daddy, wanna see!”
I got her down on the floor and let her peer in at her handiwork. (Er… okay, technically it wasn’t handiwork, but I’m trying to keep this a family blog.)
“Stinky poo!” she chirped with pride and delight. I let her flush the toilet.
Twenty minutes later she wandered over to her tissepot when neither of us was even paying attention to her and used it perfectly. Not a drop spilled.
She is so close. She is so ready. This is so exciting.
And I promise — to all of you, and not least to Molli herself — I promise not to bore or horrify you with such episodes ever again.
But this was too damn exciting not to share.
I remember Hannah’s first poo.
She turned around, examined her excrement and exclaimed,
“I made a pine cone!”