Lots of conflicting potty humor feelings surfaced when I read that a pooping dog is among this holiday season’s must-have toys:

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• Delight that such a thing exists.
• Disappointment that I was so impressed that such a thing exists.
• Panic, because Amazon.com “only” had 11 Doggie Doos in stock.
• Sadness when I saw the bowel movement buddy is for kids 3 and over, meaning my daughter is too young to learn about picking up after dogs from a pooping plastic dachshund.
• Pride at my preparedness and can-do attitude when I decided to go ahead and order one for NJ for next Christmas.
• Shame, when I realized I’d better not because I didn’t trust myself not to break out the pooping dog as soon as it arrived.
• Embarrassment, when I realized that I was going to opine on Doggie Doo – and poop in general – in this blog post.
• Relief, when I realized I could at least couch my potty talk in terms of our efforts to toilet-train 2-year-old NJ.

Normally, this would be the point where I tell you how juvenile my sense of humor is and how my wife is the mature voice of decorum who frowns on such potty humor. But that’s not so – she’s every bit the poopophile I am, even if she cloaks it in a bit of “oh, that’s so wrong” attitude.

To wit: In a few weeks we’ll get out the Christmas tree decorations and I’ll pull a plastic Santa out of the box and put him on our mantel. St. Nick’s in a squatting position, and when you push down on his head he squats down further. In fact, he … poops. Santa poops. He came with a bag of brown pellet “candies” (quotes because while they didn’t taste like what they represented, they were not good at all).

My impish wife decided Pooping Santa would be a great gift for her nephews, who were at the sweet spot age when poop is the funniest thing in the world (sometimes that period ends, sometimes it doesn’t). They loved it… and so did I. I couldn’t resist buying one for myself, and, mind you, this was before there was even a child in the house.   

We’ve got poop on the brain around here lately because NJ is at potty-training age and while she’s showing some interest, it’s very early in the process – i.e. it hasn’t yet translated into me not having to change her diapers. Man, am I looking forward to that day.

We listen with a twinge of jealousy as other parents talk about their kid climbing up onto the toilet and letting loose with the No. 1 or No. 2. We worry that we’re missing our daughter’s “I’m ready for the toilet” signals – from what I’ve gathered, you can’t exactly force a kid to use the toilet unless they’re interested.

Related: TODAY Moms' potty training advice -- no pressure, lots of Cheerios

Courtesy Bob Trott

Bob Trott and daughter NJ.

So potty-related stories are featured at bedtime. A small potty sits on the floor in the same bathroom where NJ takes her baths. Also nearby are a child’s seat attachment for the regular toilet, and a step that she can use to get up to that toilet. Often she’ll sit on one after a bath, but with no, uh, concrete results.

And we fear we may have blown a good chance to dive right in to toilet training. A few days ago NJ said “Poop” a couple of times – nothing unusual about it – and, after some cajoling, acknowledged that she’d like to go to the bathroom. By the time we got her in there, though, her diaper was full, she was confused, and her crying jag was particularly heartbreaking. My wife and I were kicking ourselves for the rest of the evening for blowing that opportunity.

NJ does have a healthy appreciation for toilet humor, though. She thinks farting, in particular, is the height of hilarity. When she lets one go she gets wide-eyed and immediately says “Excuse me, I tooted!” with a big smile. The second half of that kind of takes the shine off the polite first half, but it’s cute as hell.

Maybe I’ll sit the kid down with Pooping Santa this holiday season for some tips. And my nephews might be in luck, as Doggie Doo may be under their tree this Christmas.

Bob Trott blogs about his adventures in parenting at Dad Solo.

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