Excuse Me? You Want me to do WHAT?

Well, I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later, but I definitely didn’t expect the little present that my son gave me last Friday night. The hubster and I were happily enjoying two delicious cuts of filet mignon and some grilled asparagus, when we heard a little voice perk up from the living room. “Mommy! Daddy! Look what I found!” I glanced over to the other side of the couch where the little man was standing, and he was holding what appeared to be a dried up ball of playdoh in his hands. I was a bit suspicious as to why he found this playdoh so interesting, so I went over to investigate. I picked it up (with a napkin, of course, because after almost 4 years of parenting a boy I’m not a complete and total idiot) and gave it a good sniff check to confirm its origin. My suspicions were correct. It wasn’t a piece of playdoh. It was indeed, a turd.

I immediately burst into uncontrollable laughter when I looked at my son to inquire where this particular turd had come from, and he looked at me and said, “From my bum!” (DUH! Stupid Mommy)! It was a pretty tiny little turd and it seemed like an isolated incident, so I threw the poop contaminated napkin away, washed my hands, and went right back to eating my steak. Not two minutes later, the little man started to walk into the kitchen and another tiny little turd fell out of the pant leg of his jeans. At this point, I decided that I probably needed to check things out a little more to make sure that there were no more turds lurking around in his britches. I stripped him down and everything seemed clean and clear and turd free, so again, I went back to eating my steak.

I’m still kind of puzzled as to what in the hell is going on with my little man’s butt these days, because for some reason, it seems to be the topic of conversation at the dinner table every night. I’m pretty sure that the poop incident was due to the fact that he was in the middle of looking at a book and just didn’t feel like going to the bathroom, so he tried to hold those turds in with all his might and a couple just happened to escape. He hasn’t pooped himself in ages, so I’m hoping that this isn’t some new trend that is starting. The butt scratching, (actually, digging to be exact) however, is another story.

Earlier last Friday afternoon, I wound up bringing my son to the doctor to get him checked out because he’d developed a bit of a nasty cough mid-week. I wanted to have it looked at before we headed into the weekend. Turns out, it was all in his throat and nothing that a little Tylenol Cold and Cough wouldn’t help, so that was a relief. After the doctor was done examining him, he looked at me and asked if there was anything else I wanted to talk about before I left. I thought about it and decided that since the butt-digging had been going on for a good couple of weeks, it was probably time to see what the doc had to say about it. Needless to say, this is a conversation that I never imagined having with my son’s pediatrician. Our doctor/patient relationship went to a whole new level following that discussion. It went something like this:

Me: “Um, well, yeah…there is one more thing that I wanted to ask you about. Lately the little guy seems to have one hand constantly down his pants and is sort of digging around in his little tush area.”


Doc: “Well, he is a fidgety kid and he may just be looking for something to do and somehow he got into the habit of sticking his hand down there. Let me ask you, do you notice this happening at night or during the day?”


Me: “It’s pretty much during the day, but like ALL day.”


Doc: “Well, there is this little thing called pinworm that kids can contract. Is he in day care?”


Me: “No, but he does go to preschool two days a week.”


Doc: “Yeah, it can be contracted at preschools too. He may have it, but it is very hard to prove and usually parents complain about the constant scratching happening at night. It usually keeps the child up and he can’t get to sleep. Have you noticed that at all?”


Me: “Nope, he’s been sleeping just fine.”


Doc: “Well, I really don’t think he has it, but if you are concerned about it, here is what you need to do. What you can do is go into his room about two to three hours after he falls asleep. Then pull down his pants, and get a flashlight and a magnifying glass and look right in the hole. If he has pinworm, you aren’t going to see worms. What you will see are these teeny tiny little dots sort of moving around. They like to come out at night. If you notice this, then give me a call on Monday and I’ll call in a pill to the pharmacy for you. It’s just one pill and it gets rid of it very quickly. You can also ask around at preschool to see if any other kids have been scratching around down there (yeah right…that would go over SO well with the other preschool moms who love me so much).”


Ok, I don’t even remember the rest of the conversation and I’m pretty sure that I didn’t even hear much of anything that the doctor said after he told me to spread my poor little boys ass cheeks open, WHILE he was fast asleep no doubt, and to look inside his butt hole with a magnifying glass. (Um, excuse me? WTF)?

On the car ride home, I kind of laughed a little bit, because I pictured what I like to call “Operation Ass Watch” commencing that evening after my boy was asleep. I pictured the hubby and I tiptoeing into our son’s room, pulling down his pants, the hubster putting on his headlamp flashlight that I’m still not quite sure why he feels he has to own, and me spreading the little guy’s cheeks apart as the hubby got down in there with the magnifying glass. Then I pictured us not being able to control our laughter while doing it. Then I pictured the poor little guy waking up out of a dead sleep to find that Mommy was spreading his ass cheeks apart and that Daddy was wearing a headlamp and looking at his butt hole with a magnifying glass. Then I pictured him being completely traumatized and scarred for life and winding up in therapy for a good twenty years or so. Then I decided that there was just no way in HELL that we were going to subject our son to such humiliating treatment.

I decided that the best thing to do was to just keep an eye on the little guy for the weekend and watch and document any butt scratching that went on, so “Operation Ass Watch” continued. I figured that if the tush digging was still going on through Monday, that I’d go ahead and call the doctor and have him call in the pill. Better safe than sorry, right? And it sure beats the alternative. Come to think of it, I don’t even think that we own a magnifying glass.

That brings us to 7:00am this morning. I’m pleased to report that “Operation Ass Watch” was successful and the hubster and I seem to have debunked the problem, and no, it’s not pinworm. Our son’s skin gets extremely dry in these cold New England winter months, so a few weeks ago, we started bathing him every other night instead of every single night in an effort to try and help heal his poor little alligator skin covered body. It worked. Unfortunately, we’re also pretty sure that it resulted in an incessant bout of ass scratching on our little guy’s part due to (there’s really no polite way of saying this) the ever-dreaded sweaty butt-crack. The hubster and I are pretty good when we put our heads together, and after back to back nights of baths, the little man has pretty much left his butt alone. Let’s hope the streak continues.

The Mommyologist’s Last Word: “Well, we’re headed back to the doctor today because that “oh, don’t worry, it’s nothing” little cough he had has turned into a full-on hack-fest complete with a 102 temperature. Poor little guy. At least I won’t have to discuss his rear end with the doc today though!”

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