Poop

Remember my son Poop. Cooper the Super Pooper. Coop the Poop. Remember how he got that nickname? Better yet, remember how he's KEPT that nickname? Now, for a moment, can we just imagine potty training this child, this super pooper. Can we imagine potty training him when he does not yet understand the concept of pooping in the toilet...yet he thoroughly understands the concept of removing ones own diaper...when soiled...with poop.
And lets just imagine this little pooper lives in this crazy household with his older sister and younger brother, both not yet quite capable of tending themselves. And, not only does he have a pair of crazy siblings, lets imagine he has a crazy mom to boot. Let's just say his crazy mom has a difficult enough time keeping herself sane, her children fed, and her house in a constant state of picking up that she is bewildered at the thought of when to possibly find time to adequately train the child. And so, instead, lets just say she spends her days chasing a naked bum around the house scrubbing unmentionable foreign matter from every likely surface an uncovered, but poopy, bum could have been. For fun, lets just imagine that this has happened say 4 times in the last 24 hours (remember to subtract 10 hours for sleep) and lets just think about the color ...mm... how about green? Maybe we could also think about a freshly made bed...with new linens...
Now, for fun...what if we imagine said pooper child with his diaper taped to his person. What kind of tape, do you suppose, in this completely imaginary world, would work best? Let's just say you were to suggest something? Duct tape? Masking tape? What do you suppose would keep this make believe diaper on this make believe child?
As long as we are living in a completely fictional "fantasy" land...What would one say if, by chance, I shipped the pooper child on the next UPS truck down to his grandma's for the week were he would return to me in exactly one week completely poop free! Or at least free of all mobile poop, if you get what I mean. Let's just say he magically returned completely capable of using a toilet 100% of the time....
I mean...we're just saying.... mom, expect a package in the next couple days. At this point, I suffice it to say, we are DONE imagining. I am more than serious: Mom. Expect a package in the next few days. I will compensate you for your time.

As a side note, while we are remembering things, can I call upon you to remember a little something I call brotherly kindness. It goes something like this: Next time I am great with child, somebody PLEASE remind me of the benefits of having Landon potty trained before the new babe's arrival. That would just be the nice thing to do. (Maybe when the relief society asks if there is anything they can do for me I'll casually, yet completely seriously, hand them my son with a training potty, some undies, and a few "potty" treats. That's charity right there.)