The Third Commandment

On Friday we had what we thought was, at the time, a major breakthrough in our ongoing pooping saga. Kate finally gave up her addiction to diapers, stopped the withholding, and pooped on the potty. Gonzo and I celebrated that night with wine. We were giddy with the success, finally able to see the light at the end of that long, dark tunnel.

Not so fast. Saturday brought back the withholding, stained panties, and accidents. Sunday, more of the same. A frustrated Gonzo said to Kate, "I don't understand. You pooped on the potty on Friday. Why can't you poop on the potty today?"

Her answer was, "It's not Friday. Today is Sunday. I don't poop on the potty on Sunday."

My daughter, the good Catholic, following the third commandment- Remember to keep holy the Lord's day.

Sweet 16

"When I'm sixteen I will poop on the potty," she said to me today, out of the blue.

I laughed out loud at the sheer absurdity of her statement, but on the inside I cried, for when Kate gets an idea stuck inside her head very little can be done to change it. So, I'm trying to look at the bright side. Only eleven more years...

My Personal Hell

Being raised in the Catholic faith, I was led to believe that if one dies with a mortal sin on one's soul, one goes straight to Hell. Because we are inherently flawed humans and engage in sinning on a regular basis, the only way to avoid a trip to Hell is to cleanse your soul by going to Confession. Unfortunately, my last confession was nineteen years ago.

So, what would Hell be like? I tend to think that it is different for everyone. Individualized. My personal Hell would be a small room, roughly the size of, say, a powder room. And in that small room I would be trapped with two small girls. The bigger girl would have a wicked case of encopresis and a dreadful fear of having a bowel movement in the toilet. The smaller girl would sit on the toilet only to get right off and urinate in a big puddle all over the floor. Add to this lovely scene that I would be required to read Once Upon a Potty eighty million times.

This is what it would be like for me, if you believe in this sort of thing, of course.