***warning, detailed poop talk follows. Step away from the blog if you can't (or don't want to) hang
Bathroom talk is common in my house. Not because we have some odd kind of fetish but because we need to track my daughters BMs. Seriously, we keep a calendar to document their frequency. Don't ask... it's just necessary.
My son whose BMs we don't track (thank heaven for small favors) because he's,er, very regular makes a point of telling me when he goes anyway. Hell, he sees all the praise my daughter, J , gets when she goes - why wouldn't he want to announce his to the world ?
So Saturday, I'm sitting down minding my own business and my son B says "Mom, I just went poo"
"Great," I say expecting he'll quickly move on to something else
"Yeah, and this time it was yellow. Most of the times it's brown but one time it was green"
Uh yeah. It's at moments like that that I silently question my decision to become a parent.