Who Needs A Toilet?

Today being our first day back home from our Thanksgiving trip to Oklahoma, we tried to get Gracee back on track with the potty training.

We took her diaper off of her this morning, and for a while she just ran around with her bare butt shining for everyone to see. She said she needed to go potty no less than a dozen times. And every time, we’d take her in there and sit her on the toilet. She peed once, and that was it. She said several times she needed to poop, but every time we’d take her in there and she’d just sit there and then get up without doing anything.

Fast forward a few minutes, once again, she said she had to go poop. Well, I was very busy. Watching tv. And when she said she needed to poop, I assumed it would be like every other time, and would be a waste of time.

A few minutes later, she came walking down the hall. Actually, it was more of a weird waddle, with her butt sticking out. And something was sticking out/hanging down from her butt crack. “Daddy, I pooooop.” And then she turned to walk away. April and I saw it at the same time. Poop. Smooshed in her butt crack. She headed back to the bathroom and April followed her. Then she yelled, “Macy, NO!” I ran in there as April grabbed the damn dog and took her outside. She was eating something. Something she should never eat. Ever.

I looked in the bathroom door, and then I saw it, in all its glory. Surely there must be some mistake. Did someone let The Incredible Hulk into our home when I wasn’t looking? Because I’m pretty sure Lou Ferigno himself took a dump in our bathroom floor. That’s the only explanation that would make any sense. Only a giant of a man could produce a poop this size and not die afterward. At the very least, they’d never be able to walk correctly ever again.

But no. It wasn’t a giant green man who has been overly exposed to gamma radiation. It was a little 35″ tall, blonde haired, blue eyed girl. And I have no idea how she gave birth to that thing without dislocating both hips. I pulled my shirt up over my face, grabbed the toilet paper and then picked up the 3 lb monster from the floor and threw it in the toilet. April followed right behind me like a pit crew with a swiffer wetjet to clean the nastiness from our home. Gracee was cleaned up, the bathroom was cleaned up, and everything seemed to be back to normal. Except my blood pressure.

Since it was still raining and dreary outside, I decided I’d lay down. It was nap time for Gracee anyway, so I grabbed her and we laid down in mine and April’s bed. It’s been a long week, and I found myself feeling VERY sleepy, which never happens. Gracee laying beside me, running her little hands through my beard, we both drifted off to a nice, peaceful rainy day nap.

Fast forward one hour. I’m awake…sort of. Laying there relaxing and thinking about getting up and sneaking off letting Gracee sleep a while more. Suddenly, I felt something warm. Under my back. Really warm. Almost hot. And wet. The warm, wet feeling seemed to be spreading underneath me. No. No, no, no. Hell no.

Oh yeah. It’s pee. It’s definitely pee. I’ve got pee on me. Lots of pee. It’s on my shirt. And my bed. Gracee wakes up and looks me right in the eyes and says, “hi dad….I peed.” Yeah. I know, sweetie.

Potty training…we’ve got a ways to go.
Stoney Stamper
The Daddy Diaries

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