Embarrassment. Toddler Style

Dear Ian,

We have officially reached the point in our Mommy-Son relationship where public embarrassment begins.  You and I have been working on potty awareness and potty vocabulary (like the names for bodily functions, not bad language), and I must say, you are catching on quite well.  After naps, you have been waking up dry, so we sit on the potty and nine out of ten times, you actually pee on the potty.  You are even aware that you are doing it, so bonus points for us on our potty training journey.  We are not (for the record) officially potty training, since I think you still need more time to grow and learn and such before we start doing that, but since you will sit and pee and not argue, I figured why not make it part of our routine.  So there we are.  And remember that post about me typically having an audience when I visit the loo?  Yeah.  Toilet exposure is nothing new to you, and I want to just keep it low key and something that everyone deals with.  I don't want to make a "thing" out of you learning to use the potty; it's just part of life. 

In our learning of "potty words" you understand the meaning of pee pee, but you call everything toilet oriented "poo poo."  Even a wet diaper gets named this.  But, again, we're just starting out, so sure, whatever.  I remind you that wet diapers are pee pee, and every time you do, well, poop, I call it by it's name as well, but you have decided...

Back to our embarrassment du jour.  Today I had a lunch meeting at Red Elephant with the sponsor of the Cairo High majorettes and one of the moms since I will be soon choreographing their fall field routines.  You, lucky man, got to come with me, since Jessica (the sponsor) would be bringing her daughter, too.  We figured it could be a fun, informal, baby friendly lunch as well (and it was).  We arrived a little early, and I needed to use the ladies room before we sat down, so off we went.  We squeezed into a stall, and I attended to business while you commentated.  "Mama?  Poo poo?" you asked.  "Poo poo Mama?"  Great.  One of your first two-word phrases had to do with my bodily functions.  Super.  "No, Bear," I told you.  "Mommy just needs to pee pee."  Content with my response, you started unravelling toilet paper, but then the poor woman next to us on the left passed gas a little audibly.  "Mama!" you hollered.  "POO POO!!!"  Good Lord.  You also threw in an "ick" for good measure.  (I need to get a recording of you saying this.  You sound very German when you do it...)  The lady in the stall to our right started snickering, and I decided we needed to get out fast.  Finished, we flushed and headed out, with you repeating "poo poo" and pointing the whole time. 

We reached the safety of the restaurant, met up with Jessica and Miss Martha and lunch proceeded without any mention of toilet goings-on.  Until we got into the car and started driving away.  That's when you let rip the loudest toot I have ever heard from your little body, and you cracked up.  "Mama!  Poo poo!!!" 

Bodily functions are no longer a mystery to you, and I have a feeling I have a long future of bathroom humor ahead of me.

Love,
Mommy