Like riding a bike, I always thought that pooping was one of those skills you mastered once and for all. Turns out, it’s not quite that straightforward. Our 4-year-old, Max, has encountered a few hurdles along the way.
One evening, I found myself comfortably perched on the toilet, scrolling through my phone amidst a much-needed moment of peace. This was my sanctuary—a place to escape the chaos—while my partner, Sarah, managed the kids. It was my personal spa for a solid three minutes of tranquility. That’s when I stumbled upon a hilarious post from my younger sister. She vented about the struggles of cleaning poop out of the bathtub. My initial reaction? “Yikes! That’s so gross!”
But then, a thought crossed my mind: I might be jinxing myself. So, I backtracked and commented, “Oh, that’s awful! We’ve been lucky so far.” I was totally bluffing. “Accidents like that don’t happen if you’re cauti—”
“Alex! Oh no… Alex!” Sarah yelled from upstairs.
I was on the couch, enjoying some quality screen time with Max, when my world took a turn. “He had an accident. In the tub!”
Oh snap. I know some parents manage to sidestep the dreaded poop incident, but not us. I had to step up and handle the situation, all while keeping a calm exterior. After all, I had to show Max that even though life changes drastically in moments like these, everything would be alright. Parenting 101: be the strong role model.
But karma had other plans. We had thought we’d mastered the art of potty training, so we relaxed our vigilance. Days passed without Max making a “poop family” in the potty, which is his quirky term for doing his business. As it turned out, he had developed a fear of pooping.
We tried coaxing and bribing him with chocolate—yes, chocolate!—and while it worked a couple of times, it ended in tears. Then, he just stopped trying altogether, leading to some painful backups. Logic didn’t work; we were out of ideas.
Then came my brilliant, yet regrettable idea: a warm bath. It sounded peaceful, right? Wrong.
Our 4-year-old is built like a 7-year-old, and it turns out that a congested child of that size can produce results akin to a full-grown adult who just devoured a steak burrito. Amidst the splashing and a few tears, I realized karma had delivered my lesson loud and clear.
As a modern dad, I’ve taken on more responsibilities than my predecessors, but some tasks are still meant for moms. When we noticed a few days had passed without a successful trip to the bathroom, Sarah stepped in. She would take Max into the bathroom, easing his fears with soothing words and a patient demeanor. Through his protests and apologies, she reassured him that everything would work out just fine.
With her calming presence, candles lit, and a gentle voice, Sarah became the support Max needed to embrace the inevitable. It’s through her deep love that she has unintentionally become a poop doula, guiding him through the process.
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In summary, parenting often leads to unexpected roles. My partner has transformed into a poop doula, providing comfort and support when our child faces his fears. Navigating the complexities of potty training has been a wild ride filled with laughter, tears, and a few lessons learned along the way.