(Names/pronouns have been omitted to protect the future embarrassment of said child. Sometimes I can be all protective of their future feeeeeeeelings like that.)
One of the children was sitting at the dinner table last night and announced “I have to go to the bathroom.” After a quick trip there and back (involving hand-washing, I listened for the sound of the sink), the child in question slid back onto the bench and continued eating a Chipotle taco.
“I had to go poop at school today,” the child said nonchalantly, chewing the tortilla and taking a drink of milk from an orange plastic Ikea cup.
“Oh? Do you not usually do that?” I asked, eyebrows raised. Once they’re potty-trained, I’ve found you are usually no longer involved in such intimate toilet matters unless there is some major issue. Which is just the way I like it.
“No, I usually wait until I get home.”
“But I never go poop at school on Tuesdays because that’s the day we have fire drills.”
Blink blink. All righty then. Glad we cleared that up.