Entering the educational system has brought many great things to Warren’s world. Unfortunately, it’s also brought an unleashing of potty humor along with it. As with most 5-year-old boys, the urge to create a sentence describing at least one bodily function is almost too much to resist. If one can put it to song, all the better.
After a straight week of sing-song lyrics that rhyme with scoop I knew I had to put a stop to it.
“Warren, those are bathroom words. I don’t want to hear you saying them or singing them like that anymore,” I instructed. “It’s rude.”
Things improved a bit but not enough to close the issue. I had to pull out the big guns.
“Warren, if you can’t stop saying that on your own I’m going to charge you a nickel every time I hear you,” I threatened. Sure enough, about 10 minutes later I made my first five cents.
It didn’t take long. I think he forked over about 20 cents total before it sunk in that I meant business. And he was very honest about it, too. One time I wasn’t sure if the word was an intentional use or just a slip, but he ran and got the coin anyway.
The situation seemed under control. I was no longer hearing poetry involving bodily fluids. I was pleased with the progress. Then one afternoon, when he came home from school, he appeared to need some clarification.
“So, I get charged a nickel if I say poop outside of the bathroom, right? But if I’m in the bathroom, then I don’t have to pay you a nickel, right Mom?” he asked in all sincerity, which I confirmed was true.
He promptly closed himself inside the loo and began performing a soliloquy which could only be entitled, “Ode to Poo.”
Taking a quick break he shouted, “I’m not getting charged for this, right Mom?”
Everyone needs a release sometimes, I suppose.