One of the boys was in the midst of potty training. I asked if he needed to go potty. At first, he said no. Then I asked if he wanted to go pee-pee on the tree outside. That got a positive response.
We went outside and he dropped trou to his ankles, in classic little boy fashion. Then waddled backwards towards the tree. I asked him if he wanted to turn around and actually pee on the tree. He said no. I was NOT going to direction discriminate, because not having to strip him out of pee soaked pants later was worth letting it go.
Once he had finally gotten himself in the most perfect of positions, toddler ass backed up nicely in the direction of the tree. That sweet boy slightly folded himself forward and in less than 2 seconds shot a giant baseball of dump at that tree. I stood there in shock. Had I seriously just witnessed my sweet chubby cherub pop a squat and drop a turd before my very eyes?!?
As I stared off into space, contemplating how my life had just violently veered off track, the stench began to assault my nostrils. The wafting odor of giant baby poo broke my trance.
I looked down at his sweet face. He looked up at me. I could tell with those excited eyes that he was just so proud that he had fertilized that tree.
That was the moment I realized, direction matters.
Mother of Taylortots 