Sometimes I worry about my son Colin. I worry because he tends to play by himself rather than join in group play. I worry because he has little to no interest in extracurricular activities. I worry because he can be socially awkward and brutally honest. Mostly I delight in his quirkiness, but sometimes I worry about him. Because I’m his mom, and that’s what I do.
Colin put my mind at ease the other day. He’s normal. A perfectly normal 8-year-old boy. How do I know?
Well, apparently he texted* his friend a picture of his poop. His poop that was in the toilet bowl.
Of course he didn’t tell me about this text. I found out from his friend’s mom during a breakfast date meeting.
Michelle: “Uh, you know Colin texted my son a picture of his poop, right?”
Me (spitting out my mimosa coffee): “WHAT?! No. I didn’t know that.”
*momentary pause while we both die laughing*
Michelle: “Yep. He did. You know how I found out?”
Michelle: “Well, my son printed the picture ten times and hung them around the house.”
Michelle: “Yeah, my husband found one on his pillow when he was going to bed.”
Me: *on the floor peeing my pants*
Once I regained my composure, I replied, “I guess I should talk to him about that.”
And I did. Because even though I am relieved that he is doing normal things that normal boys do, this particular action warranted a discussion. He didn’t get in trouble, but we talked about appropriate use of technology and how things you send to other people can end up in places you didn’t intend (like on the pillow of your friend’s dad). Nothing bad happened in this case (unless you count the extra laundry I had to do from peeing my pants), but it was a perfect opportunity to have a meaningful discussion with my son.
Colin: “You still thought it was funny, right?”
Me: “It was poop. Of course I did.”
You can’t make this shit up. (See what I did there?)
*It’s an iPod touch with iMessage, not a phone.