Poo-poo awareness

Two recent episodes highlight Isaac's increasing awareness that he does, in fact, poop, and that it may, in fact, be yucky in his diaper. The beginnings of an interest in potty-training? Perhaps...

*Last Saturday, Dada thought Isaac had his poop-face on and asked him if he had to go poop. Amazingly, the boy said yes. I ushered him in to the bathroom suggesting that he try to poop on the potty and took all his clothes off (as we were pre-bath anyway). He sat on his potty, lid down. Any and all attempts to get him to sit on the potty with the lid up were completely futile. But he did at least sit, and I sat on "the big-boy potty" next to him for a few minutes, encouraging him to do his thing. Nothing happened. I asked again if he had to poop, and this time he said no. Giving up, I left the room to acquire bathtime necessities. Not more than 10 seconds later I hear him screaming "Yucky! YUCKY!" from the bathroom. I run back to find him stepping on the edge of the most enormous poo-poo pile the earth has ever known, deposited neatly, not on or in the potty, but in the center of the bathroom rug. As I wipe off his feet and end the yuckiness, he becomes excitedly curious, asking "What's that? What's that?" over and over. I realize: the child has never seen his own poop before. I explain to him gently what it is, along with the obvious benefits of leaving it in the potty instead of on the floor. I thought the whole thing was unbelievably hilarious until I started cleaning up the mess and saw on the back of the rug those three little words that belong on no object in a house with a toddler: "Dry Clean Only."

*Tonight, Dada and Isaac were playing trains at his train table. Suddenly, Isaac breaks away from playing and runs to stand next to the front door, still facing Dada, but fussing and crying. Dada can see the poop-face going on, and asks Isaac if he is pooping. "Noooooooo," he wails miserably. Well, would you like to come back over and play trains? "Noooooo," he wails again. Turns out Isaac was passing a big boulder-poo, which probably didn't feel too great, and evidently didn't want to do it near his beloved trains.

He could still care less about peeing, and when I let him roam the house sans diaper he cares not whether he pees on the rug. But I think these new poo-poo happenings are quite promising for demonstrating a newfound potty-training potential in Isaac. Too bad they only seem to happen when Dada is around.