Friday, June 03, 2011

Things I Wish Jadon Wouldn’t Shout In Front of the Neighbors’ Houses


Jadon (at the top of his lungs, while the neighbors are outside tending their meticulous lawns): “Mama, is da puppy gonna POOP here?!”

Me (pretending to be appalled, but really wishing the damn dog would poop already): “Oh, noooo, we’re just letting the puppy exercise.”

Jadon:  “But he REALLY needs to POOP!”

Me (mumbling):  “Yeah, yeah kid, but I’d rather not get kicked out of the neighborhood association.”

Me (saying loudly):  “I’m sure puppy will poop when we get back to our yard.”

And a little later in the walk, as we pass some neighbors we know…

Jadon:  “Hey, mama, can I carry the bag of poop?”

Me (trying to sound slightly indulgent, yet not disgusting):  “Um, sure.  You want to be my big helper?”

Jadon:  I want to throw it in the POOP can!

(Background information:  The poop can is exactly what it sounds like.  It is a can that is strategically placed along the walking path in our neighborhood in the hopes of bringing out the polite side of our dog-walking neighbors.  Every time the boys get near it, we have to yell at them to stay away from it.  Yuck!  Poop!  It’s full of poop!  So they have never been able to go near it.  Until now.  Now they have an excuse.

Me (rolling my eyes):  Ok, you can throw it in the can, but lift the lid and throw it in—and then leave it alone, ok?

Jadon (with a solemn look on his little face):  Ok, mama.

So I hand him the bag, telling him to hold onto the top.  And do you know what he did?  Do you even know?  I can tell you this—you don’t want to know, but I’m going to tell you anyway.  He grabbed the bag, full-fisted on the bottom, and SQUEEZED it like he had a handful of Play-Doh.  Um, I reckon just to see what it felt like to squeeze warm poop.  I dunno.

After I finished gagging, I scolded him properly and told him that just this once he didn’t need to hold my hand while crossing the street to get back to our house.

Wednesday, June 01, 2011

New Lows in Parenting


We brought home a PUPPY.  (No, this is not the low point.  It gets lower.)

So now we have a lot of poop.  A lot.  More than I would think would normally come out of something so small.  And no matter how many times I calmly and reasonably explain to our new little furball that the carpet is not his potty, he doesn’t seem to care or understand.  Really, all he cares about is chewing and pooping—oh yeah, and nipping at my clothes and tossing little bits of his food around the house.  I mean, seriously, he acts like such a BABY.  (Insert teenager-style eye roll.)

Any-hoo, after an incredibly unsuccessful day in puppy potty training while I was at work, I have deemed it necessary to use bribery with my children.  Don’t judge me—this isn’t new to them.  They are fully aware of the inner workings of the bribery system and how it can benefit them.  In fact, I try to bribe and/or threaten them daily.  It’s all part of my parenting reign of terror.

But I digress.  The bribe is this.  I am paying for poop.  Yes, paying.  Green, paper money for little bags of doggie poop.  They get $1 for each and every bag of doggie poo they collect.  Now, since I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck, I had to place a few stipulations on this little game of ours.

Rule #1—The poop has to come from outside.  They can’t let the dog crap on my carpet, then scoop it up and trade it in for $1.  The object of this little exercise is to get poochie-poo to go poo-poo outside.

Rule #2—The poop has to come from our dog.  This is for a couple of reasons.  I don’t really want to collect little blue bags full of large German shepherd and great dane poop or poop from anything else that might be running around our neighborhood, for that matter.  Also, I really think the neighbors might find it strange that my kids are running around trying stealthily steal poop from their yards, all with cute little dollar signs glimmering in their eyes.  So, we’re limiting it to poop from our dog—sorry, girls.

Rule #3—I don’t actually need to see all the poop.  Trust me on this one.  You can get each individual poop collection verified by the attending adult in the house at the time.  I will repeat this—Please Do Not Place the Poop on the Kitchen Counter for Me to Encounter After a Long Day at Work.

Rule #4—I had to add this rule because one of my girls actually asked me this question for clarification.  (But I won’t mention any names, Marissa.)  Yessssss, nuggets count.  A poop is a poop, no matter how small.  Put it in the bag.

Let the money-making begin!  (Oh, and girls, please wash your hands.  Love, Mom)