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.]
Me: HONEY!
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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