When I say “poop talk,” I am not talking about modern parents’ tagline for kids saying things that are unacceptable and/or inappropriate.
I am talking about “poop talk,” as in talking about poop.
Like descriptions. Detailed descriptions of poop.
Color. Size. Dimension. Liquidity. Aroma.
And oh, my… the little nicknames for it. I can’t even go there.
I guess if I worked in the medical community, I would be immune to poop talk. But I do not work in the medical community and perhaps that is why this sort of poop talk gets me so distressed.
I am surrounded by it… poop talk, that is.
Audrey keeps an eye on these things when it comes to her boys. And Jane is vigilant about the same things when it comes to her pups. “Hey, Mom,” they might ask while I am changing a diaper, flushing a toilet or cleaning up my yard, “Is the poop solid? Dark brown? More than yesterday?”
All right, these darlings who poop are my grandchildren and granddogs, so I will try to honor the right to excrete and the necessity to investigate.
But lately my mom and my mother-in-law have caught on to this poop talk thing.
And they don’t censor it. Dinner time seems okay to discuss size and shape. Car rides seem the perfect time to bring up stories of, well… poop. And we all know that there is, well, no end to it. Oh, good gracious.
Now of course I know that poop is very important to our health and well-being, and I certainly know that changes in these, ahem, habits tell a great deal about our medical status…
So this is what I am thinking about “poop talk.” Give me a kid with a little bit of a nasty mouth and a great sense of humor before giving me intimate details of what comes out at the end of a good (or bad) meal, what happens with new medications, or the prevailing agony of sitting too long (like in a car as we are driving).