Barnabas Monkeypants

What a weekend.

Yes, there was turkey and filling and creamed spinach (which, while appealing not in the least to me, is a big hit for everyone else).

There was family (Kristen’s brother and his girlfriend flew in from Brooklyn).

And there was Super-nanny Silvia (because what’s a Romanian girl to do on Thanksgiving day?).

But most of all, there were bowel movements.

I’ll get to that later. Instead, let’s start with all the fun things.

Jay (Kristen’s brother) and Andrea (his lady friend or his special lady — I’m not sure which) flew in on Wednesday, and we all spent several days hanging out, eating a lot (not only the great Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday, but a fun trip to a German restaurant — with band — on Friday and a mussels and pasta meal on Wednesday prepared by Kristen and Andrea), and playing with Henry. It was good to see them, and they begged and pleaded with us to move back east. Yes, it wasn’t pretty, but Jay actually dropped to his knees.

We’ll see.

We also headed out shopping on Friday afternoon, wandering the streets of Chicago (no malls, thank you very much), and they stayed up late watching our taped episodes of Ugly Betty.

Yes, yes. All very fun and exciting, but not what you’re really interested in, is it? It’s not what you came here to read.

You came here for the poop.

As you’re all aware, we’ve started to potty train Henry. I know it’s early and all, but he’s been watching Vivi (his older girlfriend) go on the plastic throne for months, and Silvia, Kristen, and I decided that he should try to. So for the past month, before and after every nap, we’ve put Henry on the potty and, without fail, he’s done the deed.

On Thanksgiving night, right after we stopped in at our downstairs neighbor’s for a bit, Kristen and I were getting Henry ready for bed and we plopped him on the potty for one last… go. As usual, he went. But this time… THIS TIME… it wasn’t just urine that found its way into the receptacle. It was also a nice, big turd.

That’s right. Poop. In the potty.

And we all applauded.

Everyone around heard about this momentous occasion. I tried to get Mayor Daley to give Henry a key to the city, but I haven’t yet heard back from his people.

Now this one instance of bowel movement mastery may be considered a fluke, and I can see some of you, my dear readers, shaking your head in disbelief.

Well, once may be a fluke. But twice makes for a trend.

You see, on Saturday morning, as I let Kristen sleep in, I was up playing with Henry. It was time for him to go down for his first nap of the day, so I put him on the potty. He went (it was a lot, too; not that has any bearing on the story), and I told him to get up lest he stick his hand in the filthiness (which he’s done a few times).

“No,” he said. (No is now his favorite word.) “Book.”

So I gave him a book. He “read” it for a while, rubbed his face (a sure sign he’s ready for a nap), and I told him again that it’s time to get up and get a new diaper on.

“No,” he repeated himself. “Poop.”

“No, Henry. You didn’t poop. You just peed. Poop is…”

…going into the potty.

Again! He pooped again! And he told me he was going to do this! Why am I so excited!? Why am I using so many exclamation points!?

Because, along with being really cute and wonderfully lovable, my son is also a master of #1 and #2, that’s why!

He hasn’t pooped again (although he tried — and struggled a bit — Sunday evening), but it will happen again soon. I’ll keep everyone abreast of any new poop developments.

(I’m a sad and pathetic man, aren’t I?)

Update (12/1/09): He pooped again in the potty this morning. It was, according to his uncle Jay (who is back in New York but knows a thing or two about a thing or two), 1.8 pounds. Gigantic.

This entry was posted on Monday, November 30th, 2009 at 11:40 pm and is filed under Barnabas, Poop. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.