Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Conversation on the way home from family vacation Up North.

Because at any time anyone's voice rises even the slightest bit, William panics, every comment was said precisely at the volume level of normal conversation. I can vouch for this.

Will: Mommy, try to go poo-poo?

Mommy: You have to go poo-poo, honey?

Will: (whispering) Yep.

Daddy: Oh, crap.

Me: Ohhhh.... okay, well, I can't take you right this minute. [several minutes to nearest exit] Just go, man.

Daddy: [laughing] Didn't he go yesterday?

Mommy: No, he tried, but nothing came out. He's definitely due today.

Brian: You sound like you're talking about a pregnant man.

Me: Honey, seriously, I think we should pull off to the side of the road.

Daddy: I'm not doing that! He's NOT going to be able to poop on the side of the road.

Mommy: He can if he has to go badly enough.... Will, do you have to go poo-poo??

Will: [whining] Go poo-poo! Mommy, try go poo-poo!

Brian: He's just saying that because you JUST suggested it to him!

Me: [slightly panicking] No, he keeps saying it! Babe, there's a rest stop... let's pull over there.

[As I am speaking, the car zooms past the exit.]


Brian: I'd rather him go in his diaper than have you both sit on one of those gross toilet seats!

Maegan: [trying to stay calm] If he poops in his diaper then, I submit that YOU have to change it.

Brian: [evil grin] I think I'll just keep driving.

Me: [refraining from hitting the roof, but just barely] I am not changing Will's poop diaper in the car! There's no room to do that and it will stink! And I'm NOT throwing a poo diaper out the window and I'm not keeping it in the car for another three hours! We're going to have to pull over either way!

Will: [chattering in the background, talking to his tractor book] Go poo-poo, tractor? Go poo-poo, tractor!

Me: [blood pressure rising] Honey, he keeps talking about going poo-poo!

Brian: You really want to waste another half hour of drive time sitting on the toilet with him when he's probably not even going to go? [referring to William's extensive history of false alarms]

Mommy: I think he really has to go this time, babe! [referring to my motherly instinct and intuition]

---"This is the quiet as they think what to do." -Jez Alborough---

Mommy: [after five minutes or so] Okay, let's pray about it. Let's have a fleece.* If he mentions it again in the next ten minutes, we'll pull over.

Brian: Okay, how about if we see a ten point buck on the side of the road, we'll pull over. That's what a fleece is, right? It has to be something improbable, like the fleece being dry and the ground being wet and all that, right? So let's say a ten point buck--

Me: [interrupting, aghast, with a barely controlled voice] Dear, I don't know where exactly you're coming from, but I am coming from a place of compassion for my son because I know how it feels to have to poop really badly.

Daddy: I know how it feels to have to poop, too. And I know how it feels to have to hold it.

Me: Imagine having to go in your car seat, Brian!

--Silence falls again. Will hasn't mentioned it since his conversation with said tractor.--

A distracting billboard passes and we talk about that for a while.

It occurs to me to obey the old adage, "cross that bridge when you come to it."

Brian: [three hours later, as we're turning onto our dirt road] So are you still devastated we didn't pull off to let Will try to poop?

Me: [ever gracious] Nope.

Me: [as Brian's pulling into the driveway at 11:30] [exhausted] I'm going to fall into bed. I'm not even going to brush my teeth.

Brian: Actually, I think you're going to be taking this little guy to go poo-poo.

Me: Oh, right.

It's 2 PM the next day and he STILL hasn't gone! Dear God, can't I be right ONE TIME?

*It's a Christian thing. Reference the Bible story of Gideon's Fleece, Judges 6:36-40.

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