Prunes. Lots and lots of prunes.

Benjamin, my son who – for the last year – has done the potty-training thing pretty well, decided a few weeks ago that urinating was to be avoided at all costs. So he would do crazy, whiney dances all around the house and when I told him to go to the bathroom, he would insist I accompany him. Which is not my idea of a good time right now – I’d rather stay on the couch and carry on not moving.

A couple of weeks later, when he got over this strange behavior, Jonathan decides he wants a couple months of a diaper-free lifestyle before we start all over again for another few years. Jonah’s been using the toilet for everything during his waking hours, was having an accident during his nap maybe once a week, but was still wearing a diaper at night. Which was really convenient for those 7:30am poops. And those daily 9pm poops. But Benjamin adamantly refused to use the toilet for this purpose. He’d hold it until his nighttime diaper then let loose within 5 minutes.

So I told Jonathan that if he was willing to start the washing machine the next morning, he was welcome to try a diaper-free nighttime experience – and maybe that would make Benjamin start pooping in the toilet. A couple of weeks – and a gallon of laundry detergent – later, the boys were starting to catch on and leakage was minimal.

The catch was that Benjamin had stopped pooping. He developed the ability hold it for days at a time – and when he couldn’t possibly hold it longer, he started in with the maniacal tip-toe dancing. Over a few hours this would escalate into his running in circles, demanding to be snuggled in a frantic high-pitched voice. It was really annoying. Plus it meant that when it finally came out, it was pretty painful for him. Hence the multiple daily prunes.

Even when un-pregnant, I’m not known for my patience, but for the last several months I’ve had less than none at all. I would slam him on the toilet and would have a loud contest of the wills over whether or not the poop wanted to come out or if – according to Benjamin – it wanted to stay in the dark in his stomach. Finally he would relent – and I’d have to hold my nose because the stench of a poop held for four days brought back my early-pregnancy gag reflex.

One day it was just too much. I’d had enough. We had a screaming match – with me shouting choice phrases usually reserved for women at the end of labor - scarring him for life, I’m sure. It was bad.

But after that, things began to get better. The decibel levels lowered.

Now he goes every day or so – often conveniently just after he’s laid down for a nap or bed time – and it’s no big deal. In fact, it’s an opportunity for artistic expression...

“I pooped dots! I pooped 2 snakes!” and so on...