Parent-teacher conferences. And poop.

I'm an early childhood educator. In my work, I go on instinct about 98 percent of the time. Fortunately, my instincts are reliable, and I make a lot of good choices regarding the children in my charge. Today, I had the singular experience of meeting with a good number of parents to discuss the achievements of their children and establish goals for their child's continued success in the classroom. For two- and three-year-olds, the major criterion for moving to the next level is the mastery of the potty. If you're a parent or a child care worker, you know what I'm talking about. I spend a great deal of my time dealing with poop and trying to get very little kids to propel their poop into the toilet. It was worse when I worked as a hospital nurse, believe me, but it's still a significant aspect of my work, and I am compelled on parent-teacher day to address the issue of potty training and poop quite a bit. I am deeply appreciative of the parents who take the whole matter seriously, who engage in an earnest discussion about the reward system and constipation and nappies at nap time without irony. In my opinion, they are the heroes of Parenthood Planet. Also, I always carefully examine every nuance of their facial expressions for a hint of awareness that we are having a ridiculous conversation. I rarely detect this. To most parents, I've learned, poop is a serious issue. The persistence of peristalsis holds a lot of weight in the world of involved parents, and there are nearly no parents who are not deeply involved with their child's pattern of elimination. How did we get this way? What could be more normal than excretion of bodily waste? Why does the whole subject draw us in, with furrowed brow, even as we stifle the inappropriate giggle? Am I hopelessly juvenile? I don't know the answer. I try to keep the whole matter on an honest level with my kids, amusing them with my occasional outbursts along the line of Oh, dear lord, you smell like the monkeyhouse in the zoo! at diaper-changing time. This never fails to make them laugh, but I live in terror of their parents walking through the door while I'm speaking my truth. That would just be embarrassing.