Tonight I was reminded once again that I have a son.
When I first found out I was having a little boy, I’ll admit, I was sad. I wanted a little girl to dress in cute dresses. I wanted to introduce her to all the toys I loved as a child. I wanted another shopping partner (even if I had to wait for a few years).
When my son was born, I realized his gender didn’t matter at all. I could not possibly love a human being more. He is my pride and joy (as all my friends can no doubt attest with my constant bragging). He can make me smile no matter how bad of a day I’m having. And when I am having one of those really bad days, he’s the first person I want to see. He makes my world a better place.
However, today when I was changing his diaper, I had a brief glimpse into the next 30 or 40 years of my life and I shuddered a bit.
My son pooped. It stank. Obviously this is not a surprise. When I furrowed my nose and told him he was smelly, he giggled. I called told him he had pee-you stinky pants and he dissoved into giggles. When I called him stinky winky, I thought the laughter might not end. Yes, that’s right, my kid likes potty humor.
This is not the first time I’ve realized this. Lately, he’s taken to giggling whenever he farts. I have a feeling this is a precursor for things to come.
I just hope I don’t have the kid who asks people to pull his finger or who farts in class, wafts it and rates the smell along with some of his best buddies (my first year of teaching, a group of boys in my first period class did this daily. It got so bad in my room that I had to open windows–against the rules–and then both call one of the boy’s moms AND give him a permanent bathroom pass to use at a moment’s notice).
I know it’s very girly of me, but I can’t stand any sort of potty humor. I HATE the scene in Dumb and Dumber with the broken toilet. It not only made me cringe, but also leave the room until it was done.
Just my luck, I got a kid, who at two years old, loves farts. With my luck, he’ll end up being an athlete too.