The Master of Poo Poo

Sawyer is such a boy.  What else would make a four year old declare himself The Master of Poo Poo?

Boys are born believing that poop is awesome.  They use the bathroom, then stand up, turn around, and examine their handiwork.  Usually by the time I get in there to wipe Sawyer’s rear, he has already determined which animal his poop looks like.  If he poops a lot, he’s genuinely proud of it.  If it’s just a little bit, he’s still pleased to have accomplished SOMETHING on the potty.

And I’ve discovered that they never outgrow this fascination with poop.  Grown men enjoy talking about it.  There are even websites that adult men have set up to compare poop.

I’ve tried to decide what this says about boys.  I think it means that they are gross.  But, I think it’s also another sign of how different men and women are, and maybe how we balance each other out.

Or maybe it just means that men are disgusting.

Either way, I have to admit it was quite a cute moment when Sawyer decided he is the best pooper on the planet.  The Master of Poo Poo.  In my house!  I feel honored.  And grossed out.  But, mainly honored.

Yet, I’ll be pleased when The Master gets big enough to go to the potty all alone.  I know he enjoys having a witness to his greatness, but I wouldn’t mind not having to affirm each time that, yes, that DOES look like Mickey Mouse.

I love my little man.  And, I must admit it’s nice to have a little manly pooping and rough and tumble sandwiched between the two girls who are all fluff and glitter.  For that, I’ll gladly be an audience to The Master’s greatness.