Since September, many conversations with BabyGirl revolve around poop. At first, I was concerned and attempted to manoeuvre our talks to more polite topics, such as the pasta and meat sauce on our dinner plates. Of course, the meat sauce looked like bloody poop. And then, she asked for seconds.
Eventually, I recalled my own fascination as a five-year old. So I thought, “Okay, it’s normal.” Unlike my mother, I chose to engage in poop conversations as they came and went which could be several times at day.
The interest in poop was reinforced at school by the acquisition of a Baby Alive doll. Baby Alive is fed water, which she promptly processes into a diaper. Add Baby Alive colouring to the water, and there’s what my daughter calls poop. Since Christmas, BabyGirl owns her own Baby Alive which she likes to feed diaper-less over the kitchen sink and giggle as she watches the doll produce a stream of water. Ah, the joys of childhood! Of course, I am expected to assist in the spectacle. Ah, the joys of parenting!
One day as I picked her up from the afterschool program, I discovered her and her friends in deep conversation about…poop. “All I ever hear about is poop,” I announced. The instructors laughed and the kids giggled. Inside, I thought, “I’m so relieved that her peers are into poop too. Cool.” Ah, the victories of parenting!
Tonight, I caught her picking at her nose. “Do you need a tissue,” I asked.
“No,” she replied.
I remembered the booger eaters of my childhood so I decided to check. Sigh. “Did you eat it?”
She giggled. “No, I don’t eat my boogers.”
“Do your friends eat their boogers?”
She giggled. “Some do.”
“Does Sarah* eat her boogers?”
She laughed. “Yes.”
“She looks like the kind of kid who would,” I said. We both laughed hard for a bit. Then I said, “Don’t eat your boogers, okay?”
She giggled again. “Okay.”
“I love you. Good night.”
“Good night, Mama.”
So what do you talk about with your five-year old?
*Names have been changed to protect the booger eaters.