Friday, October 19, 2007


I'm an observant person. I notice subtle variations in people's moods. I remember details about places I've been. I recognize faces from deep in my past. I'm aware of patterns of behavior...and deviations. It's part of who I am.

Tonight, however, I realized something a little...unsettling: I know when the Monkey is going to poop.

Oh sure (you might be thinking) most people can tell when a little kid needs to go to the bathroom. They dance...they grab themselves...they wiggle and shake. It's not rocket science. And all of that is completely true when he needs to pee.

Pooping, for the Monkey, is an entirely different matter.

Instead of the uncontained energy he normally exhibits, the Monkey's pre-poop ritual is extreme independence. He'll wander off by himself for a period of time (10, 15, 20 minutes) and play quietly with toys. He narrates sounds like a grand adventure...but he doesn't involve me in it. He doesn't try to tell me anything (which is rare...he generally wants to tell me everything, all the time). He doesn't come find me. He just plays.

...until he rocket launches himself to the bathroom and lets out this little groan of relief.

Then he's back to being Chatty McChatterson in a cracked-out Jerry Bruckheimer remake of Pong.

Fair warning, M.Bro!! Bean is probably quietly slipping you Extra Sensory Poopception hormones while you sleep... Let me know when your unsettling realization hits.


towwas said...


Sophist said...

Can you imagine how appalled The Monkey would be to see this post in 12 years' time?