(I first posted this about 5 years ago. Five years ago?? Seriously??)
(Li’l MB, age 3, a broad-shouldered bruiser.)
Li’l MB was about 4 or 5. His mom, a nurse, was called into the hospital on an emergency and dad was at work, too, so Li’l MB and his brother were dashed off to the nearest babysitter: Cecilia Stone, reluctant wife of Rocky Stone.
Li’l MB and brother spent the afternoon playing nicely with each other; they were good little boys, well brought up, having a good little day. Cecilia Stone, however, was apparently not having a good little day. She was getting drunk.
Now, every good little boy, even in the midst of the most riveting afternoon of play, will need a potty break. Some little boys just go behind a bush, barely missing a beat. Other, better boys will stop, go in the house, and do their business. But the very best boys, finding themselves at, oh, say, someone else’s home, will ask permission to go in the house and relieve themselves.
MB, as I have established, was one of the very best boys. And when the need for a potty break became pressing, he respectfully approached the boozy Cecilia Stone, reluctant wife of Rocky Stone.
As the son of a nurse, MB had learned all the medically correct terms for the body’s vital excretory functions. In MB’s childhood home, there were no such words as “pee” or “poop” or “tinkle” or “wee wee.” And there were ABSOLUTELY no such words as “yellow potty” or “dirty potty,” the descriptive phrases used by Ritchie and Brian, Li’l MB’s troglodytic, melon-headed friends.
No. He and brother were taught to say “urinate” and “defecate.”
So L’il MB approached the sotted Cecilia Stone.
” ‘Scuse me. I have to defecate.”
“What!?” Cecilia Stone slurred.
“I have to defecate!”
“What?!? You’re suffocatin’!?”
“NOO-HO! I have to DEFECATE!” Li’l MB’s voice became urgent with need.
“NOOOO-HO!! I HAVE TO DEFECATE!!!”
Poor Li’l MB. He rocked on his heels, desperate, but Cecilia Stone was soused, pie-eyed … sloshed. She could NOT understand him, no matter how hard he tried. Maybe he should have said “dirty potty.”
Moments later, mom came to pick up her boys and found Li’l MB crying in frustration and in dire defecatin’ straits. A groggy Cecilia Stone blurted:
“What the HELL is wrong with this kid?? HE KEEPS SAYIN’ HE’S SUFFOCATIN’!!”
Mom narrowed her eyes at silly Cecilia Stone and looked down at her frantic, dancing boy.
“He is NOT suffocating,” she replied, matter-of-factly. “He has to defecate!”
Cecilia Stone wheezed.
The question trailed in the air behind MB’s indignant mom as she marched her little pooper home to his long-awaited destiny.