This is a little story about best friends, toddlers, and toddler pooping spots.
Everyone needs a best friend. Even better, everyone needs a best friend like mine. I don’t remember exactly when I met her, but I vaguely remember it being a gym class where we were all forced to country line dance. 25 years later, we’re no longer forced to line dance together, but she’s still stuck with me. We may no longer live in the same town anymore, and now are mamas with our own families, but somehow we still pick up like it was just yesterday.
Twenty years ago our summers consisted of working our summer jobs, and then immediately breaking free to find where our other half was. Our days not working were spent pool side or driving around blasting Dave Matthews Band. We perfected our tans, the art of playing an invisible fiddle, and how to sneak out of bedroom windows sans sound in the middle of the night (sorry Mom).
In the summer of ’98, Dave came back to what was then New World Music Theater, and Missi (Mel to the rest of the world, but forever Missi to me) and I got the obligatory lawn seats. Back then it was the only way to see him(Let’s be real, it still is now, I’m just old balls and creaky. My old lady butt likes seats).
We played the tried and true faves…
Crash, Two Step, Stay, Say Goodbye, Satellite, Ants Marching
Twenty years later my concert prep song routine sounds the same. I’ve added a few songs, am a lot less tan, and no longer need to sneak out bedroom windows in the middle of the night.
The universe still likes to laugh at me, though. I think it’s payback for those bedroom windows.
I promised you a toddler poop story. I didn’t forget.
E must have felt the universe’s cosmic tug that DMB was coming to town. Mama needed a little extra laugh, you see.
Little man has decided lately that he is a pooping machine. Like full on pooping machine. He likes to take a morning poop. Then a mid-morning poop. Then a lunch time…
You get the theme.
Clearly, the boy is getting enough fiber in his diet.
The kicker to this is he waits until he has a clean diaper and then he poops immediately after… in his poop spot.
What’s a poop spot, you ask? And why is this relevant to DMB and my bff? I promise the universe has its ways, and it is.
You see, adults poop in a bathroom, and apparently E is ahead of his game and has caught on that you go somewhere to poop. So this child has started to do the same. He has christened the little spot in between my couch and the sliding door his spot. Alrighty kid, if this is where you need to go.
It’s always pretty apparent as to what he’s doing. He drunk,toddler walks over then squats and smiles at you. Don’t make eye contact, though. That’s a no-no. Once he’s done he gives you the biggest, cheesiest grin ever. He sure is proud of his pooping prowess. I mean, I guess it is something to behold.
So anyway, a few weeks ago. I noticed ants by the sliding door. Eff me, man. I hate ants. Like hate them. I busted out my trusty Dyson, and faithfully sucked those critters up. We had recently had a few cookouts, and well, I’ve got kids. So even with my obsessive vacuuming after eating I figured something was missed and my least favorite pest snuck in.
The nanny and I were on it though. For days we did double wipe downs, and extra vacuum sweeps. I patted myself on the back because I thought I had eliminated the ant problem.
E likes to wake up at 545ish. Yikes. Every day. Occasionally, he likes to sleep in to like 630. Ooof. Anything before 6AM is way to early to function. My brain needs at least two cups of coffee that early to comprehend anything.
The week before DMB is no different and on Tuesday as if on cue, E woke up at his normal time, and we headed down for breakfast. As I’m in full on vacuum mode(as referenced here), E heads to his poop spot for his morning poop.
And then I see them. WTF.
Ants. And not just a few. It’s like they came back with a vengeance.
Since I already had the trusty Dyson in hand I sucked them all up, and went after the diaper.
Then I went back after the source. My back patting was clearly premature, and I couldn’t figure out how both the nanny and I had missed the source. So I laid-in-wait and watched where they came from.
And that’s when I realized they came from the poop spot. For real.
The ants were marching from my under my couch.
I moved the leg on the couch to realize E had decided he must have really needed a snack during one of his poops. Then got tired of said snack and left it to enjoy for later.
Half eaten Larabars make great pooping snacks and ant trails.
In other news, we now inspect the poop spot for leftovers. And the ants have marched elsewhere.
That’s the last time I play Ants Marching on massive repeat in preparation for a DMB concert. I love you Dave, but just no.
And in case you’re wondering, why yes, he did play it during his Saturday set. Twenty years later, we even still play a mean air fiddle.