If Adults were Toddlers

Our last house had wood floor and tile throughout it, so an excrement-on-the-floor scenario was never a big deal. But when we moved into this house with its 90’s-era taupe carpet, life changed pretty drastically. 

Thankfully, a week after Hutch turned 3 he finally potty trained, and pretty much never looked back. He’s had a few accidents since then, but nothing major, and in my newfound serenity I made the classic parental mistake: I got comfortable. Nay, cocky

Well, as evidenced by the above photo, today I dealt with poo AND pee on the carpet, from a three year-old who really does know better. I’m pretty sure it’s not an official regression so much as Hutch just wanting some attention (I’ve been trying harder lately to keep the house clean, which means not being as available for my toddler…bad idea). But for one terrifying second I was transported back to a time when Hutch would literally do that shit to spite me. In an instant, I was humbled, even a little scared. I can’t go back to changing three-year-old diapers with poos like a full-grown man; I can’t go back to that dark, awful place! Please don’t send me back there. I’ll do anything. 

Toddlers are amazing creatures, aren’t they? Imagine if an adult behaved the way a toddler did: can you even imagine…?

Kyle pisses me off so I pull down my pants and take a crap right there on the floor by the side of his bed, and just leave it for him to deal with when he eventually discovers it. But the anticipation of his finding it is too great for me to bear, so I hunt him down (busily working away at some important project that will benefit the entire family, and IGNORING ME like a jerk), and ask him to wipe for me because I can’t see? And at first he’s proud of my, and asks if I went poop on the potty and I give him a sheepish-but-also-quite-delighted look and say, noooooo… And then the realization sinks in and he immediately bounds upstairs in search of the evidence that he knows, he KNOWS he’s going to find because something in my eyes prophesied of this. And he finds it, the horror, the horror. And he can’t even rebuke me (very much) because he knows how hard it is on me to be ignored, and he knows he was indeed ignoring me. And as he cleans up my surprise, I dance on tiptoes all around him, gleefully taking pride in the knowledge that I’ve done a truly splendid thing today, and I can carry on with the rest of my sinister agenda for the evening. That’ll teach him to focus on anything else besides me, I think smugly. 

Like I said: amazing. 

About Camille

I'm Camille. I have a butt-chin. I live in Canada. I was born in Arizona. I like Diet Dr. Pepper. Hello. You can find me on Twitter @archiveslives, Facebook at facebook.com/archivesofourlives, instagram at ArchivesLives, and elsewhere.
This entry was posted in #wordythirty, family, hutchface, kid stuffs, motherhood, parenthood. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to If Adults were Toddlers

  1. Geevz says:

    Ugh! Seriously potty training is the worst! With the move my 3 year old has pooped every where, including outside which he calls camping poop, and marked the carpet in almost every room. And he has been accident free for months! It’s terrible. But then again, I’ve got a friend who’s ex-husband would pee places in the house to get back at her so I suppose that’s worse. No gleeful dancing though.

    • Camille says:

      Wow, I thought i was the only person crazy enough to think of that! Glad he’s an EX. Sorry about the three year old. You know i can relate. It’s awful.

Comments are closed.