Warning: This story involves toilet talk, poop, etc. If you're queasy or easily offended by bodily functions, you might want to skip over this post and go to the next. Boys are gross. Sorry not sorry.
Boy are gross.
I mean, they're really gross! Why are they made this way? Is there some sort of required "nasty grotesque DNA chip" secretly embedded into each newborn boy? With a delay switch, because they're so sweet and innocent and not-gross until the chip is deployed at say, age five?
I was home for thirty seconds this evening. Thirty. Seconds. Calen was outside with friends. I walk in the front door. I kick my shoes off. I hear Camden from upstairs "Mom?! Can you come here please??"
This is not a "come check out my new Lego creation" 'come here'. This is a "I'm in a crisis situation and I need reinforcements" 'come here'.
I get to the landing of the stairs. "Are you okay?"
"No!"
This is not normal. So now I'm bounding up the stairs. Why is my eleven year old not okay? Is he bleeding profusely? Does he have a broken limb? Why is there no crying? What traumatic scene am I about to walk into?
I make it to the playroom (the master bedroom), I can tell his voice is coming from the attached bathroom. So I turn the corner and push the door open, expecting the worst, ready to call 911, when I see Cam, stark naked, on the toilet, staring at me.
"Mom, I'm pooping a lot."
Stand down everyone. Belay my last about reinforcements. Pack it up troops we're going home. "
"Oh, is that all that's happening?"
"Yeah, but Mom it's a lot."
I'm trying not to laugh. I mean it's not funny. But my relief that this isn't a real emergency coupled with the fact that my son is mildly panicking over some tummy troubles is making me want to burst laughing. Also I laugh in uncomfortable situations.
"It's totally normal. I mean not really normal but it happens from time to time. It's not a big deal. It's probably from the milkshake"
We'll get to the milkshake in a moment.
"Because I'm not used to milkshakes?"
"Something like that."
"Mom.....is this....diarrhea?!?" in the most horrified, astounded tone of voice.
"Yes. But it's not a big deal."
Cam's eyes go wide. He starts to breathe heavy. Panic at the Disco.
"You're not going to die from diarrhea, Cam."
Relief. A deep sigh, and then the next round of questions.
"Well how do we get rid of it?"
"You just need to sit there and let it all out, and then drink a lot of water and you'll be fine."
Cam looks at me and curls his lips in disgust.
"UGH! Seriously? I just have to sit here? I don't have time for this. I'm wasting daylight."
This was the part of the story, when retelling it to Brad who was downstairs blissfully unaware of this situation, said "And where do you think he gets it? He's totally you."
He's not wrong.
So now I'm really trying not to laugh and I go "well I don't know what to say Cam but you have to just hang out here until you think you're done." I go to close the door and I hear him grumbling to himself.
"It sure would be nice if I could watch something since I'm stuck in here all day."
I shout through the door "Do you want a book?"
A few seconds of silence. And then: "....sure. Can you bring me Garfield?"
So I deliver a Garfield comic book and then had to ask one more question.
"Cam...why are you naked??"
"Oh. I just got so hot. I just get too hot when I poop and this was taking forever."
I head downstairs howling in laughter. But it's not over yet. After maybe another ten minutes of him upstairs I hear the unmistakable noise of our overpowered airplane jet toilet flushing and him bounding down the stairs - half dressed, still putting his shirt back on - and announcing:
"I think I'm the first kid to ever have diarrhea!"
"No...you're not."
"Oh. Well the first in Kodiak."
"No, you're not. And there's no records and certainly no contest of this anyways."
And then we had to have a quick and extremely important discussion of why we don't ever discuss what happens in the bathroom to friends, ever. Because he would because he's a disgusting boy and can you even imagine that text message from the neighborhood moms.
The milkshakes in question were due to the fact that we had milkshakes for dinner, because it's the first day of Crabfest, and Soda Jerk came to the island for the weekend. And what is Soda Jerk, you ask? The best dang milkshakes on planet earth, and we will have them every.single.day this weekend. Regardless of whatever bathroom consequences we may or may not have.
Disclaimer: Camden is NOT lactose intolerant. I think it just hit him wrong, or he had a gas bubble, or something.
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