We were at my Mom's this weekend helping her with her extravaganza of a lawn sale and while I was trying to con an extra two bucks out of some old man for a rusty wrench and trying to encourage this other guy named Phil to buy a desk he clearly did not need or want, but in the end bought anyway for the discounted price of $25, I received this voice mail message from Annie at A Good American Wife, who I believe is one of the straight-up coolest people I've met in these here parts of the blogsphere and clearly writes one of the best food/parenting/humor blogs around.
That said, she's also a little kooky. And when it comes to Walter, her freakishly adorable son perhaps a bit, ya know, kookier.
This is the unedited voice mail. I think the hysteria speaks for itself.
Oh my God, Kim! It's Anne and Walter...Walter just ate a huge hunk of his own poop...How disgusting is that?...So disgusting...Anyway, I'm just calling to see if this ever happened with your girls?...Anyway, um, should I call the pediatrician?...I'm kind of embarrassed...I'm thinking it's pretty common though, right?...Kids kinda eat their own poop, right?...Once in awhile...eh,I don't know, it seems like one of those gross kid things, I don't know...I don't know what to do, so I thought I'd call you and...oh! the worst thing is he seemed to LIKE it!...I tried to get it out of his mouth and he was crying and finally, eh, I just let him swallow it...Anyway, yeah, give me a call if you have a chance...Bye.
Okay, so this was like the best voice mail I've ever gotten and I was laughing so hard that I nearly gave away a hand-made afghan that my great grandmother's cousin made in the early 1900's for like $5. But then, I got hold of myself and called Annie and gratefully, the poop had not welled up in Walter's stomach and caused some kind of catastrophic blockage or something.
Because if it did, all that laughing would have been pretty inappropriate.
Anyhoo, by thetime I got to her, Walter was all content and sitting around basking in the high of having eaten his first poop and having successfully prevented Annie from doing that horrible mother-thing where we fish stuff out of their mouths with our huge, honking fingers and embarrass them in front of their toddler friends at their play dates. And it appeared that Walter was kind of enjoying the pungent after taste, since poop has a bit of a kick after it hits the back of the tongue.
Or so I've heard.
So, feeling a bit like we saved Walter from the throes of a poop contagion, I offered Annie my theories on poop. I have some.
Here they are - I don't think you get to have a kid without them eating a little poop along the way. I think a kid that doesn't eat his poop will never grow up to be a rocket scientist or win the Nobel Prize for Literature. I think Einstein ate his poop. I think Martha Stewart ate her poop. Maybe she still does - wrapped in a tasty little fritter and served with a little tomato chutney. Who knows?
I think a kid that won't even try his poop, probably won't be a very adventurous eater or a very adventurous anything. I think poop-eaters are creative geniuses in the making. I think they may grow up to be the kind of people who will eat a live tarantula on a TV game show and then win $100,000 and bring it home to their parents and say, "Thanks for letting me eat my poop, Ma...This money is for you and all the things you've done for me for the last 18 years."
I don't know why but I think eating your poop is a good sign of things to come. If nothing else, you can truthfully, and a little smugly, tell the other Mothers at "Mommy and Me" that your kid, does in fact, eat ANYTHING. Congrats Annie, you and Fred (of Art Dada fame, a really hilarious, fresh art and parenting blog. Run there and check him out) have yourselves an adventurous eater.
Oh yeah, but my kids never ate their poop.