Potty Mouth

Asher's first two word phrase was uttered as Scot was leaving for work one morning. "Bye-bye, [long pause] Daddy." His second came several days later as he saw me heading into the bathroom. "Mommy poop."

Last night Scot and I were talking about how Asher understands so much more than he communicates to us. Less than an hour later I was throwing a load of laundry in the dryer while Riley and Asher played nearby. The conversation I overheard was a perfect example of just how much this boy really gets.

Asher, do you want to play doctor?

Yeah.

Let me get my hearter. (She grabs a plastic necklace that she pretends is a stethoscope.) Does your tummy hurt?

No.

Does your back hurt?

No.

Does your head hurt?

No.

This went on for several more body parts before Riley got tired of guessing and cut to the chase.

What does hurt, Asher?

Bum.

I swear Riley didn't know words like "poop" and "bum" before her second birthday. Well, maybe poop. But I totally blame his bathroom vocabulary on his sister. She was insistent a while back that it was time to potty train Asher. I told her that he isn't ready for that until he can pull his pants down by himself and say the word "potty." Well, he loves to pull his shoes and socks off, but he still can't pull his pants down, and he won't say "potty." So instead she has taught him "poop" and "pee pee."

I say won't, because he probably could, but this boy is very stubborn and will not say a word if you ask him to say it. Ever. I've been working on him for months to say his own name. He has never even tried. Instead, when he sees himself in the mirror, he points and says, "Boy." Actually, maybe that's the word that explains all of this.