Poop, Actually

Last night, while I was on the phone with MJP, I heard him suddenly cry out in horror. He had discovered that what had looked like chocolate was actually a piece of his daughter's feces. Apparently, she'd missed that bit of poop when she tried to wipe herself. It fell off when she was getting undressed.

This is just one of many little moments with MJP's little Rock Star that remind me how complicated life is and how much we have to learn just to be baseline functional. If you think about it, wiping your own ass is very tricky. Knowing your ass from your elbow is not a trivial matter when all of your parts are new and your brain is still growing. In fact, the whole process of civilized personal waste disposal requires dozens of complex motor and self regulation skills--recognizing that your bladder is full or that you will soon have a bowel movement, accepting that you have to stop whatever fascinating thing you are doing and go to the bathroom, aiming, wiping, not getting freaked out by the powerful vortex that is the flushing toilet, washing hands, etc.

The toilet is just one of many challenges facing this pre-school Rock Star. Not only are people constantly interrupting her important projects for trivial things like meals and baths. Social standards are constantly shifting. MJP lets the Rock Star know that Grandpa might find her burps charming, but the rest of the world is not amused. She is still figuring out when it is acceptable to throw punches, shake her butt, talk about penises, and raise her voice. Maybe all you other adults out there answered such questions for yourselves long ago, but I still haven't.

Self expression can be a challenge, too. What is the right balance between following your personal vision and communicating with the audience? The Rock Star is not so thrilled about the fact that only three horizontal strokes go in the letter E. "It might be a lot cooler with more strokes, but then it wouldn't be an E. And people won't be able to figure out what you're trying to write." Whatever, she seems to say with a bored tilt of the head.

Can't I work and play well without paying the tax of sleeping and eating nutritious food? Can't someone just carry me any time I don't feel like walking? Can't I have whatever it is I want now and in any quantity I desire? Can't I control my feelings at will?

No, no, no, and no. Sorry, honey. Many adults I've met haven't come to terms with these answers, so I have to remember to cut the Rock Star some slack. It can be frustrating, but watching a kid coming to terms with these problems makes me feel a lot more compassion and humility for kids and grown-ups.