“Look Mommy,” Kaya squeals pointing up into the bright night, “the Moon woke up!”
She’s talking about the real moon, rising in the expansive Kootenay sky. But her remark is just about as cute as her mooning me (and everyone in Kaslo that day) and it is my tie-in to the real purpose of this post: bum business.
Because there was a lot of bum business on our trip. Starting with Kaya’s new found love. Outhouses. We have seen waterfalls, butterflies, squirrels and woodpeckers. We have picked carrots from the garden and spotted pink flowering lily pads. But it is Kaya’s visit to her first outhouse that makes the biggest impact.
“Where we goin to Mommy?”
“The outhouse.” said with little to no enthusiasm.
“The outhouse?” said with intrigue and wonder.
“Look Mommy! Bugs live in there!” as I lift the toilet seat.
“Heeheeheeheehee! That’s funny!” Funny and in no way deters her from plunking her little bum right down on them.
“Where’s it going?” She can’t hear the pee splash and this puzzles her. I am imagining informing her that her pee is landing on mounds and mounds of strangers poo when she moves on.
“Where’s the flush?”
“There is no flush in an outhouse. It’s just a big hole in the ground.”
“Hole in the ground?” Her brain processes this new phenomena while I try to change the subject.
“Wasn’t that a beautiful rainbow by the waterfall?”
“I pee in the hole in the ground?”
Ignoring her, I race her to the next waterfall. We take photos, eat a picnic, and climb rocks before getting back into the car. Not five minutes down the road and a song bursts forth from the back seat.
“Outhouse, oh outhouse. Lalalalaallalala. Squamish poop. Lalalalalla. Eat soup. Outhouse oh outhouse.”
Or something like that. I don’t remember her tune and could not understand all of her words but I did jot down what I could hear and understand. The point being, she sings in rhyme what she knows, and she now knows outhouses.
Later in the trip Kaya develops a new bad habit. She constantly has her hands in her pants. We repeat, over and over, as only parents can “Kaya, get your hands out of your pants!” She takes them out only to put them right back in as soon as we turn away. Eventually I realize her butt has been ravaged by some vicious bug. Most likely attacked while sitting happily on another outhouse seat swinging her legs, reading the graffiti lining the walls. “K is for Kaya” she cheers upon seeing the word ‘c-o-c-k’ scratched in with a pen knife. It also has a penis drawn beside it but I think she thinks it is a cucumber. Vegetables are too uninteresting for her to comment.
Our next outhouse is a desperation pee break from the car. There is no town anywhere near so we pull over at a provincial park trail head. Always an outhouse there. But not a regularly serviced one I should think. IT WAS DISGUSTING. Pee all over the toilet seat. Dirty toilet paper all over the floor. A gigantic spider dangling menacingly above the pit hole. This is where I attempt to teach my child how to breathe through your mouth in order to avoid smelling. She doesn’t get it. “I smell like stinky!” she dry heaves while shoving her hands over her nose. This is also where I should be teaching her to ‘get in and get out’. Instead I teach her the ‘bashful bladder’. Seriously though, how are you supposed to pee when your mother is gagging while trying to hold you over the toilet hole urging you to Pee Girl, Pee! Answer? You don’t. I end up using vast amounts of toilet paper to wipe the seat, then lay some on the seat and let her sit. All the while I am yelling, YELLING, “YUCK!!!!!” I am still haunted. Should I have let her sit or should I have taken her right out and reminded her of the ‘squat’?
At one point in the trip she does not even recall how to sit on a potty. She instead has an accident. A poo accident. Her first since the first week of potty training. YUCK.
Another time she is having so much fun that she has a pee accident. Completely normal for a not even 3 year old right? Too bad it was in the middle of the lake on a water trampoline. Jump in the lake girl, JUMP IN THE LAKE! Only she’s 3, does not swim, wears only water wings, and has not yet been taught the subtle art of the lake pee.
Well, I was worried about writing this post because poop and pee are gross. I see now that potty talk gets a totally bum rap.
Shit, I am funny.