My husband and I freeze. Is he actually telling us that he's pooping? I run into the bathroom to find the boy sitting on the toilet with a big grin on his face.
"Did you poop?" I ask.
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| TP--it's not just for playtime anymore. |
"Good job telling Mommy!" I congratulate him and pick up a wet wipe.
"Bend over," he says, before I can tell him. I wipe him, we wash hands, and we celebrate.
Flush!
We are celebrating that my son did not attempt to wipe with his bare hands and smear it on his legs. We are also celebrating that he didn't skip wiping all together and then sit bare-assed on the couch, the piano keys, or our bed--like he did yesterday.
We've slept in many a skid mark. I know it's gross. There have been times that we've been too tired to notice.
Poop or chocolate? Poop or chocolate? Oh, God help me, it's poop.
I know parents of toddlers who've said those words. We say them often. Our son is five.
It's gotten to the point where we're cool with any crisis as long as it doesn't involve poop. It's become our motto.
"He smeared toothpaste on the mirror."
"At least it's not poop."
"He stuck play-doh in the carpet."
"At least it's not poop."
"He's throwing a tantrum."
"At least he's not throwing poop."
Poop is an important topic for parents of ASD kids.
Seriously...google "autism and poop." Your computer will blow up.