Talkin' Potty

Potty talk has become a bit of an issue around our house. Sometimes I say to myself, “It’s like living with a bunch of children!”, and then I remember that I am; living with a bunch of children that is.

A couple of weeks ago we hit the bottom of the toilet on potty talk and so Ms. Els took it upon herself to gather the family for a little meeting. (Steve couldn’t call the meeting because we are trying to be less hypocritical in our parenting)

With Els as our cap-i-tan we went over what constitutes potty talk, why we shouldn’t use it (because it makes me look bad!), what is actually ok to say and how we’d punish the offenders.

Overall it was about as productive as a meeting run by a 6 year-old can be. Which, I have to say, is pretty darn productive. I do believe that someday she’ll stage a coup and take over this home.

Anyhow, later that evening we were running some errands in the car and Steve made a funny which resulted in me saying, “You crack me up!”

Which resulted in Ms. Els saying, “Uh..(buzzer noise)… you said a potty word!!”

I stepped directly into the trap and defended myself. “No I didn’t”.

“Yes,” she vehemently stated, “you did too! You said ‘crack’ and that’s a potty word!”

Steve and I started “cracking” up all over again at this pronouncement.

“Sweetie, ‘crack’ isn’t a potty word.” I giggled.

“Mom, come on. Yes it is.” She rolled her eyes. I know this even though I couldn’t see her, because she always rolls her eyes when explaining simple concepts to me. “Don’t you have a crack down your bum? And isn’t that were your poo-poo’s come out? Then it’s a potty word and you can’t say it.”

I’ll give her snaps for her reasoning on this. It was sound. We do indeed have a crack down our bottom, and it is indeed where our business comes out.

I wasn’t sure we could handle the intricacies of the crack-on- a-sidewalk vs. crack-down-your-bottom conversation. So I just apologized and backed off.

Still, it’s been amazing to me over the past few weeks as Els has pointed out to me how many potty talk violations I make. It turns out that the blame cannot rest squarely on the shoulders of Steve or their friends. Apparently I’m talkin’, talk, talk, talkin’ potty talk all the day long.

And that just… well… stinks. Which, according to my children, is indeed a potty word. I think you can figure out why.

Now I have to go wash off my hands with soap.