Poop II

Yesterday morning when Brett woke up we worked on reinforcing his daily routine of taking off his night-night diaper, going potty, and then putting on a pair of big boy underwear for the day. (If he makes it a whole week at night without tinkling in his diaper overnight, he won't have to wear one anymore -- that's a while off, I think.)

But when I sent him into the bathroom to go tinkle, he told me, "I don't have to tinkle."

"Do you have to poop?" I asked.

"No, I don't have to poop. I have to tinkle and poop."

Okay, Brett 1, Daddy 0.

So then he got the potty all prepped for pooping (he sits on a pirate-themed Dora the Explorer seat that sets inside the toilet seat), sat down, and (forgive the graphic description... although it's par for the course in this blog lately!) pushed his penis down so as not to spray the shower curtain and the rest of the bathroom.

He's got a cold (my fault), and has been having what is referred to in the clinical world as "loose stools" lately. Such was the case yesterday morning. In fact, as soon as he sat down, out it came with much fanfare. Brett's eyes got very large as he looked at me and said, "That was fast."

I smiled at him through my half-awake haze and said, "Yes, it was!"

He replied with the following, which I now blog here both for posterity and as an indication of how adorable my son is: "The tinkle and the poop were having a race, and the poop WON!"