A poop is not a lion

Terza is three, which is the age at which, I've noticed, children tend to develop a short-lived phobia of feces. Don't ask me why this happens. I know it has something to do with what they call "body integrity" which is also why, at about this age, they also develop a blood phobia. All of which is to say, I will definitely not be showing the kid any birth videos any time soon. Could you imagine what the implications of that would be on someone concerned about body integrity?

Because it's not my first time at the rodeo, I was prepared for the poop problem. When Terza has to go, I hang out with her in the bathroom and just chat with her and tell her stories so she does not have a full-on nervous breakdown about her imminent BM. While doing that a few days ago, I was reminding her of the fact that there's nothing to worry about. And she, in a moment of clarity and reason, agreed.

Then she expounded on the subject:

"A poop is not a lion or a tiger," she observed. "A poop can't eat you. So you don't have to be scared."

Exactly, my child. Exactly.

When I grow up . . .

Terza is three. This, I have found, is the age at which girls who have big brothers try to pee standing up.

The other day, I took her to use her potty and instead of sitting on it, she stood next to it, looking ambitious.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I want to pee like Primo," she explained.

Poor Primo. We took all the locks off the doors when we moved in, because the kids were little and we'd already lived through the "Seconda Locks Herself in the Laundry Room in Tennessee" incident. Now, of course, Primo's old enough to deserve some privacy, especially from his little sister who's prone to barging into bathrooms without so much as a how-do-you-do. Of course, because of Terza, we still prefer to have doors that can't lock. After all, we've already lived through the "Terza Locks Herself in the Bathroom at Brunch at Our Friend's House" incident and that was really no fun. So, as usual, a Sophie's choice.

When Terza told me she had big plans to start peeing standing up, I told her, as I told Seconda at the same age, that girls pee sitting down because girls' bodies are different from boys' bodies and it just works better to sit down.

So she sat. And she peed. And she mused.

"When I grow up, I want to pee like a boy," she reflected.

I was just beginning to worry about whether this was an indication that she might need gender reassignment surgery one day and if so, if that was covered by health insurance, and if not, was it smart to maybe start saving now, when she spoke again.

"When I grow up, I want to be a tiger," she said.

"Me too," I said.

And then I stopped worrying, and started enjoying my kid instead.

As heard through the bathroom door:

Seconda: Wipe my butt!

Primo: No, you didn’t do peepee. Do peepee first.

S: But I did do peepee!

P: Ok, Ok, I will wipe your butt, Come on.

Flush flush.

P: (Whisper) Don’t tell daddy, OK?

S: (whisper) I won’t.

P: DADDY! MOMMY! I WIPED SECONDAS BUTT!

S: OK, now you do a poop.

P: I'm DOING it. You aren't the boss. Leave me alone.

S: OK, I’m gonna wipe your butt Primo.

P: No no no, you can’t! You don’t know how!

S: Yeah, I’m gonna.

Me: SECONDA YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO WIPE ANY BUTTS!

I shudder to think what would happen if we lived in a house bigger than 900 square feet where I wasn't always within earshot of these children.