Where's your favorite poop spot?
Yes, I just asked that question. So where is it?
For my youngest Bryce, it's sitting (and squatting) on her little bedroom chair in front of her little table with the farm house and animals. Or, it's on her little stool in front of her little kitchen set in the
What? She wears a diaper. C'mon.
Same with Beatrice, although we are in a fast-track transition with her finally going pee-pee on the potty! Next stop is poop train to the toilet! Until then the poop spot means quiet time in her bed.
What are you looking at? Get out!
Again I ask you -- where's your favorite poop spot?
Your main bathroom?
The guest bath?
The half bath?
The out house?
The guest house?
The back yard? (Keep that one to yourself.)
The hotel room bathroom when traveling for business alone?
The hotel lobby bathroom when traveling for business with colleagues?
The hotel room bathroom when traveling with family (and room spray)?
The corner stall of the bathroom at work?
The corner stall of the bathroom at work -- on another floor?
The corner stall of the bathroom at another office building down the street from where you work?
A quiet place to reflect, read, meditate and/or pray, to blot out an otherwise business-as-usual stress-filled day?
Mine is our master bedroom bathroom. Or, the male/female single shared bathrooms at work (one at a time, thank you). This may be too much info for the Mama, so I won't speak for her.
Hey, there's a Zen sense of animistic liberty when we poop -- having ownership over a specific bodily function in an otherwise cruel, chaotic world.
For at least as long as we can, baby. We can go out just as we came in, so let's pay homage to our favorite poop spot.
Ahhh. Nirvana…
