Conversations with a 3-year-old

Meet my niece. She is almost four years old, and she’s awesome.

Here she is pretending to be a surly dinosaur. Fierce!

 

I’m convinced she’s going to grow up to be a play-by-play announcer or a correspondent for one of those news shows where they talk incessantly just to fill time, because she is masterful at talking her way through a variety of experiences. This includes going to the toilet.

While The Husband and I were visiting family, The Brother-in-Law left this little one in my care for just a few minutes. Of course, as soon as we were alone, my niece had to use the bathroom. I think it’s Murphy’s Law for the Childless — those who are the least knowledgable about caring for a child are the most likely to deal with their feces.

NIECE: I have to go poop.

ME: Oh geez. What’s happening? How do you do this … thing? Do you wear diapers?

NIECE: No, I go potty like a big girl.

ME: Alright. Let’s get you to the toilet.

(I carry her to the bathroom. As she hoists her skirt into the air, I plunk her down on the toilet seat.)

ME: Can you handle everything in here? Should I leave you alone?

NIECE: Stay here. Talk to me.

ME: OK. Um … so how’s everything going?

NIECE: I’m pooping.

ME: Yes, I surmised that.

NIECE: It’s coming. It’s coming out now. The poop is in my butt, and now it’s coming out.

ME: Fantastic.

NIECE: Do you smell that? My poop stinks.

ME: Everybody’s poop stinks.

NIECE: I don’t want to eat or drink anything anymore, because that is how poop is made. And I hate to go poop. Uh-oh.

ME: What?

NIECE: More stinky poop is coming. Oh man. I don’t want to poop anymore.

ME: You have to poop. Everyone poops. Actually, have you read “Everyone Poops”? I’ll buy it for you for Christmas.

NIECE: Done! (Grabbing a handful of toilet paper.) I wipe my butt like this.

ME: That’s very good.

(Helping my niece off the toilet.)

NIECE: Look at that. I made that. It’s poop. My poop is brown. Chocolate is also brown, but it does not stink. My poops are little and round.

ME: Nice work.

(Flushing toilet.)

NIECE: High five!

ME: Whoa! Not so fast. Let’s wash those hands.

At least I knew that much.