My son, Lane, fancies himself to be quite a jokester. Which is amazing, since he’s only 3. But he’s been that way since birth and I doubt it will change. And he’s ALL BOY, so I am on a constant fart joke alert. Ever since he could talk, we’ve secretly called him a Frat-Boy-in-Training. There is a crushed-can-on-a-forehead happening at my house within the decade, I’m guessing.

 

 

Lane’s latest trick – which he declares “funny” – is finding my hair on the bathroom floor and eating it. Most times we “eeewww, that’s gross!” to his face, which he finds funny. Sometimes we get mad, which he finds funny; sometimes we ignore it, which he loudly declares “Mommy look at me, this is funny!” It’s been going on for months. Gross, but harmless, I figured. I teased my husband that he would get a hairball like the cat.

Then I got the call from the bathroom. “Mommy! Come help me! My poop won’t come off!”

Most moms will admit (in the privacy of their homes, and not on the internet, of course), that we have all gotten the “my poop won’t come out” call from a kid who can’t explain that they are constipated. That I understood. But my poop won’t come off?? Uh oh.

I opened the door to see my son sitting on the potty, leaning forward, with a giant lump of do-do hanging from his butt….BY A HAIR. My hair, to be precise.

Somehow I managed to hold back my desire to gag, laugh, and get my camera to see if I could get a video to go viral. Mostly I just wanted to laugh. He didn’t. I managed to get him – ahem – unattached. But then, there was this hair. My hair. Still dangling from his ass. I made him bend over while I gently tried to pull it out like a tapeworm. Sounds easier than it was. Actually, the most difficult part was trying to keep a straight face, and hoping he wouldn’t get any fart joke ideas at this time.

Everyone seems to have recovered. PediaLax is a miracle drug. The only difference, is that eating hair is now a Time Out punishable offense. At least the fart joke writers have job security for another few decades.