Baby’s Top 40

**Warning** if you do not want to read about bodily functions please stop reading now, or put down your sandwich and come back later…whatever.

So, I’ve found that with most parents (especially new ones) it is completely normal to discuss your child’s bodily functions ad nauseum.  Sometimes it seems like that’s the only thing that has even happened during the day for me to talk about.  You’re actually taught to observe and record these happenings while you’re in the hospital.  What time, poo or pee, color, consistency.  All clues to whether or not your baby is eating well enough.  Now, the gas.  Enemy in this house.  Liam’s little belly just rumbles with gas bubbles and it makes him fussy.  “Fussy” is mom-code for turning on the car alarm scream.  Crescendos of low growling to high-pitched shrieking.  His tummy tightens up and the legs scrunch up and then kick out.  (Don’t be on the other end of that donkey kick.  I’ve gotten it in the gut and lost my words.)

So, we don’t just talk about poo, pee and gas in this house.  We encourage it.  My husband is not a fan of the poopy diaper.  Even though breastmilk poo doesn’t even SMELL!…he is ridiculously dramatic, gagging and falling on the floor.  But even Daddy will cheer when we hear the sound of a poopy explosion.  (Yes…HEAR.  From the next room.)  It means his tummy is clear, he ate well, and he will be in a good mood.

In order to encourage a great poo I have come up with a few jingles.  Mostly to the tune of well-known songs.  Such as:

You Can Poop if You Want To (to the tune of You Can Dance if You Want To by Men at Work).  It goes a little something like this:

You can poop if you want to

You can leave your friends behind

Cause your friends don’t poop

And if they don’t poop

Then they’re no friends of mine.

Yes…I do continue on with an echoing of You can poop…you can poop…

I am also working on a real winner called Baby Got Gas.  While the lyrics are still a little rough it has always been able to generate a smile from The Boy.  He likes when I rap.  Maybe I’ll ask Dad to join in with a beatbox.

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