“Hey pee-pee head, check out my PEEEENIS.”
This is a phrase that I hear commonly around my house. I don’t get Morris’s obsession with saying potty words. Is it a boy thing? I don’t remember everything about my childhood, but for some reason I don’t think I walked around sounding like a drunken sailor. The worst part is that when he says a potty word, he says it with such conviction, and always sings it to a cute tune. Like the time we were in the grocery store. Some poor unsuspecting customer was on the the wrong aisle at the wrong time. Morris shouts (in a sing songy voice, which sort of makes it interesting and most people don’t just ignore it:
“I see her VAGIIIINA.”
The reason I knew she heard was because I saw her actually glance down at her anatomy as if it might really be hanging out. I don’t know if Morris was actually talking to her specifically, or if it was just a case of his potty word Turrets. But the fact that we were standing on the tampon aisle didn’t make it any better.
It seems most things with kids are phases, so when the toilet bowl words started flowing around 3 years old, I was just ignoring it thinking he would quickly grow out of it once the novelty wore off. It came and went, but like bellbottoms and neon tunics, resurfaced to popularity a few months later.
This time I tried a different approach. It seemed that by making the words taboo, this made them more enjoyeable to say. So when he called me “fart face mommy”, I said, “ok, butt wipe son.”
Although this momentarily increased my cool factor with him, it seemed to have backfired in the elimination of the vocabulary. So goes the parenting mantra of trial and error. Some tactics work, and some, well, don’t work so well.
So now, we get engaged in a battle of the potty words and in my mode of not wanting to be one upped by a 4 year old, I seemed to have taught him a few extra potty words during battle. So, I’ll keep you poo poo brains posted on how this one pans out.
To be continued…