Ethan has just turned three. As a birthday present to me, Ethan is FINALLY toilet trained. Actually, looking back it hasn’t been too bad. Oh he had his share of nasty, nasty accidents. And I had my share of nasty, nasty accidents to clean up. Now all he has to do is learn to wipe his own ass and we are set.
Last week while Ethan was on the can he had a revalation. He realized that his shit stank. He actually CRIED when he finished doing his business and was so upset because the bathroom stunk. Quite ironic really, as this kiddo, up until a few months ago would poop his pants on a daily basis and not seem to be bothered by it. The fact that his rear end eminated smells that would peel paint did not phase him in the least. He seemed to marvel in the fact that he could, when he wanted, clear everyone out of a room (except for his younger brother who could rival any smell that Ethan could produce). The two of them running around with shitty bums would force Ken and I to plug our noses while negotiating who was going to take care of what mess (a negotiation b/c Ethan’s dirty butt would singe your nose hairs, but Nicky refuses to sit still for more than two seconds, so you usually wind up wiping more than a dirty ass when you change him).
So I explained to Ethan that poo stinks and it is OK. All this after trying to convince my husband that MY poo in fact does not smell at all. Holy crap the secret is out.