...and Poo Means I Love Yoo

I took my position as proxy day-care provider for a trio of 3-year old boys today. One boy - we'll call him Slick - left me with a funny story to share.

Slick was lying on the floor watching an educational PBS show while I sat on the couch and enjoyed the start of a new book ("Everything is Illuminated", Jonathan Safran Foer). The other boys were giggling about the new color names on crayons (e.g. fuzzy wuzzy brown). I paused to sip my diet cola and asked Slick if he thought Mary - the regular sitter - was the coolest babysitter ever. He said, "No. You are." I thanked him awkwardly and resumed my reading, Slick staring at me with murky intent.

"I think you're smart. And I think you're pretty," Slick blinked. I gave him a "thumbs-up", having lacked a more appropriate response.

An hour later Slick told me he had to go potty... #2, no doubt. He yelled out from the bathroom for me and told me he didn't know how to wipe his rear. I unrolled a generous wad of TP, shoved it in his tiny fist and suggested that he give it a go. He said he couldn't. He said his arms were too short. He said it itched. I felt sorry for the kid - I didn't want him to suffer a chafed bottom.

We fumbled through the awkwardness of executing the task: "Does Mary have you get off the toilet first, or do you just bend over and have Mary reach under?" He answered with deceptive confusion, "I don't know," so I tipped the guy over and removed any unwanted residue, washed my hands and sent the boys off to prepare for lunch.

Mary arrived and I dished the morning dirt, including Slick's inability to cleanse down-under. That's when I learned he'd been wiping regularly and without fail for over a year! Mary questioned the little rascal, who reactively hid his flushed and grinning face under a blanket. The little dickens tricked me! A three-year old! He knew precisely what he was doing.

How do little kids learn these things?