Note to readers: This is a poop post. If you don't like poop, might I suggest this charming vignette instead?
I know a little who girl who probably would be none too pleased as a teenager to read about this topic, so I shall refrain from using her name. Let's just call her, um, Vernette.
So Vernette's a cute little thing. She's two and a half, going on 15. She's not gonna take no crap from nobody. In fact, these days she will have nothing to do with poop of any kind. She's got 'tood, man. I said 'tood, not turd.
As a baby and a younger toddler, Vernette, so I'm told, was always a good daily pooper, just as I'm sure we'd all like to be. Suddenly, a few weeks ago, caca fell out of favour. Vernette holds it in for days. And days. And days. And days.
Her parents pleaded and cajoled. They tried reasoning with her. They softened things up with nutritional alterations. Mineral oil. Suppositories. Bribes. Potty versus diaper versus wearing nothing. They pulled out all the stops, but couldn't pull the stopper.
What gives? "Why don't you want to let the poop out?" Vernette's mama asked the child after a session of foot stomping, sobbing and leg crossing (Vernette, not her mama).
"I'm going to poop when I'm a little older," Vernette said, nodding solemnly.
Oh, dear. Her mama wonders what she means by "a little older." In an hour or two? A couple of days? Six months from now when she's three?
What makes a child decide she just doesn't want to poop?
This is just one more of at least a thousand reasons why parents need that psychology degree.