A Boy and His Breakfast

I received the following email from one of Callum's teachers awhile back:

Good morning! A good Callum story for you :) We sit down to eat breakfast, have time to take a couple of bites and the fire alarm goes off. I grab my clip board, Callum, and another child and head for the door. Callum is screaming because I had the nerve to rip him away from his muffin and banana :) He cries the whole 5 minutes we are outside and as soon as [the director] gives the all clear to go inside he takes off for the door to make sure his breakfast is still there. He was much relieved to find everything still at his spot :)

This and That...

I dreamed a scent last night. Specifically, dog poop. Most of the dream had fizzled when I awoke; all I remember is that someone tracked dog poop into Callum's room. I could smell it in my dream. Either that or my bedmate farted. I'm pretty sure it was the dream though. Chris, Callum, and I spent part of yesterday afternoon at the park barking at dogs and their owners, most of whom had a plastic bag tucked in a pocket.

Word's auto-correct function kicked my butt - at work. How would you complete this sentence? "...encourage teachers to demonstrate their ______ for science."

I meant to type "excitement" in the blank.

I typed something that was not "excitement."

Word auto-corrected to "excrement."

The fun never ends around here.

Poopin' With Myself

Potty training.

I knew it would involve a fair amount of sharing my pooping and peeing expertise with Callum especially since Chris is VERY MODEST about the goings on in his bathroom. I was not, however, prepared for a command poop performance complete with an audience.

After supper Thursday night, I had to poop. Since Callum gets upset sometimes when I leave the room, I sneaked upstairs quietly to take care of my business. Unfortunately, he noticed I was gone, and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth before I begrudgingly let him in the bathroom. He demanded to sit on his potty chair so I could read him Everyone Poops for the gazillionth time this week. Trying to remove a squirmy boy's pants and diaper and keeping your butt on the toilet is not easy, and poor embarrassed Chris had to get in on the action. He averted his eyes the entire time.

All this commotion gave me stage fright. I haven't had stage fright since my freshman year of college when I had to learn how to poop in the communal dorm bathroom. I cleaned myself up, let Callum do the flushing honors (we were both a bit disappointed as we waved bye-bye), and resumed reading Everyone Poops until the second wave hit me. I called Chris in for reinforcements (it was URGENT), and he had the audacity to suggest I run downstairs to complete my mission rather than use his bathroom located a mere 10 feet away.

I ignored his advice. :-)