The House at Poo Corner

Warning: potty talk ahead.

Jane's hit the stage in development where she's starting to gain control over her bowel movements. The hilarious part of this stage - and it seems almost universal - is that kids seem to need to be by themselves to take a poo.

Our little pal Sophie never liked to be far away from her mum, but still needed that privacy. Her solution: close the glass door to the TV room. I used to try to talk to her through the door during these moments when she was "away." She pretended I wasn't six inches away from her face.

The other universal is The Look. Absent, yet focused. Staring unblinkingly at a vague spot in the room. Holding half a breath. Cheeks slightly flushed with effort.

Jane has a spot in our kitchen she likes to go: behind the table, just barely out of view from the rest of the room. Erin calls it her Poo Nook.

Our first morning in Halifax, we had breakfast in the hotel restaurant. They sat us in a booth in the back corner (note: everywhere we ate sat us in a booth in the back corner. We felt marginalized the whole trip). Beside us was another booth that jutted out from the wall by about a metre. The jutting created a dead space that was almost perfectly hidden from the rest of the room. As soon as we sat down, Erin pointed it out as a perfect Poo Nook.

Sure enough, within ten minutes Jane was there. Absent, yet focused. Staring unblinkingly at a vague spot in the room. Holding half a breath. Cheeks slighly flushed...

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