On Wednesday morning, I changed a leaky poopy diaper. Ugh. Wednesday night, we found a glob of poop on the floor, that I had mistaken for a leaf (and thankfully not stepped on). Yitzchak, of course, cleaned it up. Done? Done.
Shabbat was Yom Kippur. Friday night, Shlomo points to his Cozy Coupe and says, “Yeah?” I said, “Yeah, it’s your car. You want to sit in your car? Sit in it and drive. Zoom zoom!” He’s not happy. He points, turning his hand so his finger is pointing into the car. I look down, and see something on the edge of the seat. Something brown. Oh, no. I guess that explains where the glob on the floor came from (I thought I had gotten lucky and even though he’d run around before I changed the diaper, he hadn’t sat on anything).
Yes, it’s poop. Dry, non-smelly poop. Shlomo is pointing to it, because he wants it cleaned. His car has poop in it, and that grosses him out. Little cleanie. Well, I waited for Yitzchak to get home. Yitzchak took a wipe to it. But Shlomo refuses to sit. He keeps pointing to the seat. Once poopy, always poopy.
“You got poop in your car?” I ask. “Pup, pup? Pup!” Shlomo says, pointing to the car. I think – wait a second. He hasn’t sat in his car since Wednesday morning, because there’s poop in it. It’s Friday night now, and that car is his favorite toy. Oh. My. Gosh. He has given up on his favorite toy for two and a half days, because it has poop in it. I can’t believe it. (Lucky me, huh?) That’s why he’s gone back to playing with other things. That’s why he’s pushed the car but not sat in it.
And to think that I just figured it was a phase, because he was sick of the car. He’s not sick of the car, he’s just grossed out.
It’s now Sunday night, and he still won’t sit in the car, or put dolls in it to drive to dolls around. Because, of course, the dolls shouldn’t get dirty, either. Even from cleaned-up poop.
Once poopy, always poopy.