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The Incident of the Wayward Turd

February 2, 2012

Let me set the scene:

We just finished dinner, I was nursing Quinn on the glider in the living room, and we were feeling optimistic about potty training with Kien.  He was in a good mood, having made his first fecal deposit the night before and earning 5 whopping “Yippie Pebbles”.  (We’re trying this new thing where he earns “Yippie Pebbles” to put in his “Yippie Jar”.  When the jar is full he gets a reward, like a new toy, and we all yell “Yippie!”)  We brought out his portable potty seat to the living room, placing it in the middle of the area rug clear of his legos and close to the couch.  After a good 20 minutes hanging out on the potty and doing some puzzles, he squeezed a little half inch turd.  A tiny, dense, turd the size of a lima bean but stank like it was the real deal.  He got up from the potty, looked into it, and puffed out his chest with pride.  “I get Yippie rocks!”  Hey, a deposit is a deposit and we were going to honor that.

So he grabs his potty chair and swings it about.  My mom grabs it back anticipating that he was about to pee (think about it, when was the last time you did #2 without doing numero uno?).  She places the potty back down and he grabs it again.  All the while, I’m locked in the glider while Quinn nurses away, and I watch as the little piece of turd rolls around in the white plastic potty chamber.  I’m anticipating it rolling out, but it stays put.  So she places it off to the side while we get Kien his Yippie Pebbles.  After we count them out and he drops them in the jar we start thinking about cleaning up and getting him ready for his bath.  That’s when the night went awry.  My mom noticed it first.  The turd.  It was gone.  Just gone.  The potty bowl was empty save for a vague skid mark from the turd.

She looked around on the rug.  Then my dad looked through the legos.  I was still nursing but scanned the entire area with my eyes and tried to identify it’s location with my nose.  We looked under the couch, under throw pillows, under toys and furniture.  We brought the dogs over to smell their paws even though they weren’t in the area at the time of disappearance.  Don came out and joined in on the search.  As I sat there nursing Quinn, I could not help burst out laughing at the site of three grown adults on all fours sniffing around for a piece of turd while a half-naked toddler stood in the middle of the room watching with amusement.  Just visualize that for a second and see if you can keep yourself from chuckling.

Don, being slightly obsessive compulsive, spent the rest of the evening sporadically looking for it.  I kept myself entertained by calling out that it was in his hair, or on his shirt, or right where he sat down, or between his toes.  Or on his face.

I’ve lost many things in my life.  I never thought a turd would be one of them.  If it weren’t for the environmental impact and the social stigma, I’d keep Kien in diapers indefinitely.  I’ll report back if we ever find it.  I’ve deduced that it can’t be in the room because we don’t smell it. Call me crazy – it’s not the same thing as finding a $5 dollar bill in your pocket but I might be equally ecstatic.

This wasn't taken the night of the "Incident" but it was Kien first-ever successful deposit in the potty.


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  1. Jenna permalink

    I swear to god, I just peed my pants-but then again that isn’t too hard these days.. 🙂

  2. slg permalink

    I have an opposite story from our engagement night of not a ‘lost’ but a ‘found’ and subsequent panic and search of 8 parents of 9 kids to figure out whose it was. During the mayhem, those not involved in the search (kid-less us, my parents, his parents) had a quiet moment in the living room where we decided to tell them we were getting hitched! the found bm will live in infamy.

  3. Is it in the Yippie Rocks Bucket?

    Nice tie.

  4. No, not in the Yippie Jar. We smelled to make sure. Twice. It’s still MIA

  5. Bizarley permalink

    Hate to say it, but I would guess Wasabi or Mango had some whoopie pie for dessert.

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