It’s all poo

26 Feb

Yes it’s happened. My son has officially got the poo bug. Fortunately, I don’t mean the norovirus (fumbling manically for some wood to touch), I mean a fascination with all things poo.

Thankfully he hasn’t actually got keen on the real stuff, please god no. That would be too gross for words. But he can barely speak a sentence without the dreaded poop word being mentioned. If we’re lucky we may get away with the less offensive references to wees, bums, willies and foofs.

I’m wanting to blame it on all those other kids he mixes with at nursery. Obviously some little ratbag with an inferior upbringing is teaching my well mannered and civilised angel appalling habits. But I fear it isn’t so. I have an awful feeling it may have been me.

I didn’t mean to. Honestly I didn’t. But I am fast learning that what I sometimes do as a bit of a throw away joke, is taken literally, and then magnified tenfold by my little parrot boy.

Take the time when, in the middle of a rather amusing and mischievous conversation with the boy, I blew a raspberry at him in defiance. Two seconds later he was showering me with spit in a never ending giant raspberry.

Talking of spit, I also recall the time I downloaded a zoo game on my iPad for him. One where you press all the animals and they do funny moves and noises. There were donkeys, elephants, pigs and a camel, and that camel spat at the zoo keeper every time you pressed him. Seemed harmless enough, it was a child’s app for goodness sake.

That is, until a week later (his first at pre-school) when, much to my shame, he and my childminder were hauled up into the office for spitting at his teacher after she asked him to stop doing something.

On a tense journey home, I asked the little mite why he spat, and he proudly announced “I was being a camel mummy”. Right, must make a note to delete that game.

Anyway, back to the brown stuff. So, a few weeks ago, I thought it might be funny to gang up on daddy. So I told him that daddy was stinky, and that he should call him “daddy foofy pants”. Like a true mummy’s boy he duly obliged and we spent many hours taunting poor foofy pants about his truly smelly bum.

Then not long after, I thought it might be funny to make up an equally cheeky name for Oscar. So I casually called him stinky bum for a laugh. “No mummy, I’m not a stinky bum, I’m a wee wee pants”. You’re not a wee wee pants Oscar, you’re a poopy pants and I’m a cheeky bum”. And thus the obsession with poop began.

Now, every new day brings a new unwelcome reference to poo.

As a demonstration of his new hobby, I’ll leave you with today’s offering from my little pooper. A nursery rhyme he sang to me before bedtime:

“Twinkle twinkle little poo
Poopy poopy poopy poo
Up above the poo so high
Like a poopy in the sky”


You can pretty much fill in the rest yourself.

And just for fun, here’s a picture he drew on my iPad this evening. In case you can’t guess, it’s a drawing of his bum and willy. I’m thinking he was channelling his inner Picasso.



2 Responses to “It’s all poo”

  1. keladelaide February 27, 2013 at 12:54 am #

    Too, too funny!

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