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The Empire of the Fussy Shitter.

Some kids are fussy eaters. They have a whole list of shit they won’t eat, most of which, they have never tried.

Others are fussy dressers. Colors and styles have to match…etc. Otherwise they aren’t going anywhere.

And, rarely, you run into a fussy shitter. The name is descriptive enough, don’t you think?

I am posted up at Starbucks at one of the larger tables with some ambitious nursing students.

They are working on nursing degrees and a career while I am working on a snotty little blog that no one reads. 

The door opens and a couple comes in with a child. The parents are in their early 30’s? And the little boy is about 5. 

Dad and the somewhat frantic boy beeline for the bathroom while mom stops nearby and makes a call on her cellphone.

“Hi mom, its Tanya.” (The name Tanya went thru a wildly popular period than it ever should have. Seriously. And they are always trouble. Its like the name summons some ancient goddess of cheesy drama or something.)

“Rog is in the bathroom with Tyler. Its bad today, this is the fourth place we have been to so far.” She looks back at the bathroom with the look of hope tinged with fear. Whatever is going on there, its got her fairly beaten up mentally. 

“No, we have been to 4 different bathrooms so far and there has been something wrong with each one. We are still an hour from home.” She listens to the phone.

“We tried that mom, he shit his pants. And we will not put pullups on him. The other kids might find out and make fun.”

Good lord.

I don’t know that I have run into the parents of a fussy shitter before. 

That is a whole new brand of oddity. 

On the one hand, you do what you have to when your kids are little. There are parents who never raise their voices or tell them no. It is a whole thing that wildly over indulges and leads to the creation of millennials. 

On the other hand, beat your kid, lady. 

5 is way too early to be knuckling under to whatever the kid dictates. 

You are setting yourself up for a lot of future shitty happenings. (Pun kind of intended.)

I went to high school with someone who went home at lunch to use the bathroom. She lived nearby and was pretty hot, so no one gave her any trouble.

I found out years later from a guy who dated her for awhile, she had some sexual issues revolving around defecation. (The home town version of 2 girls, one cup. Google that one at your own risk.)

And here it is, happening right in front of me. 

I realize how harsh it sounds, especially given the ridiculously over-compensating that parents and opinionated shitheads without kids nonsense out there.

But if they would simply sit his fussy ass on the toilet, telling him to shit or sleep there, they would be on the road. 

It’s not a quick fix.

It’s a habit they allowed to form and it will take awhile to break, but it can be done. 

One of my kids was a fussy eater. Had a whole list of shit they would not eat, all of it never tried before. 

So I made a rule. 

You can decide you don’t like something, but you have to try it. Not a nibble, a loaded spoonful.

You can only force yourself to dry heave so many times before it wears on you. 

They eventually expanded their menu nicely and it stopped being a problem. 

A few minutes later, Dad and Tyler came out, mission accomplished.

Lucky number 5. 

As they left, I was tempted to share my wisdom with them.

And then I realized that they were on their own journey.

Sigh.

Being enlightened can be a burden at times.

Mmmmm coffee.

 
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Posted by on December 22, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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