I was at the Boston Book Festival listening to Jennifer Egan tell a gripping and both shocking and hilarious story about getting her wallet stolen and how the experience inspired her book A Visit From the Good Squad when I received the following text from Harlan:
Huge poop in potty
I was even more thrilled at this development than I was an hour later when the Pulitzer Prize winning author whose fiction I’ve devoured for years signed two of her books for me.
It was one week ago when I wrote the following status update on facebook (instead of blogging about it, because I’m a lazy-ass and haven’t blogged since May):
My kid whacking me on the head repeatedly with a diaper shouting at the top of his lungs, “I want a diaper NOOOOOOW!” Then he sits on the floor and for the first time ever puts the thing on himself. Potty training is not going so well. I don’t know what to do.
So you can imagine how I thrilled to the picture of my kid happily pooping in his blue plastic Baby Björn potty.
I should probably back up now to mention the text message I received while out on a date with my husband Friday night. Between the screening of one Harlan’s colleagues’ trio of experimental docs downtown and a Cubano and a mojito at Chez Henri in Cambridge, we were riding the T and got the following text from the babysitter:
guess who pooped on the potty. (clue: not me)
That was the first-ever potty poop and, even though we weren’t there to witness it, we were so ecstatic we threw in a few extra babysitting bucks.
In one week, our little rascal went from whacking me over the head with a diaper; peeing all over himself and a restaurant chair while we were dining out with friends; screaming, “I don’t want underwear!” at the top of his lungs while pee drips down his legs, to wearing a pull-up only at nap and bedtime, peeing on the potty (with mom or dad counting, playing games, reading books or some other form of distraction), getting loads of Angry Birds stickers stuck on the potty chart to reward him, and now, the big prize: poop on the potty.
Turns out he even asked Harlan to leave the room for the occasion to give him a little privacy.
I am one happy mama.
And that’s all she wrote.