Scat Friday

Oh, but how I wish I meant the Ella Fitzgerald kind.

Nooooo, no. Alas, it is the lesser kind to which I refer today. The kind that stars in every – okay, not every, but nearly every story and joke uttered of late by the lil’ monkey.

See, last week the scatological dam broke. (I’m not blaming her little chums from the Southland, but the coincidence with our vacationing together does give one pause.) I was tucking her in to bed. We had a delightful time reviewing the hightlights of the day, singing lullabies, things of this nature. Then she’s done with me.

“Go get mama,” she barks, with an unsettling urgency. I do so. We both wait breathlessly to hear the pronouncement.

“Mama! Mama! Why did the poopy diaper cross the road?”

“I don’t know dear,” intones the beloved, gamely, “why did the poopy diaper cross the road?”

“To get to the other poopy diaper!” Tee hee hee hee, burbles the monkey, thinking to herself, I’m sure, “Man, that was funny!”

The next day she was working other classic comedic structures.

“Did you hear the one about the poopy?” she asks me, utterly out of the blue.

“No, dear, I did not.” I try hard not to phone in my lines.

“It combined with pee and became diahhrea!” Woo, I totally did not see that coming.

Where in the Sam Hill does she get this stuff. I truly believe she makes it up. Doctor of Scatology meets Henny Youngman.

The next day she began experimenting with narrative structures. Oh, except with the same featured protagonist.

“Once upon a time there was a poopy,” she began. I could keep going and fill out the story, but I think you get the point.

Then she lured us with an angle she knows is effective: demonstrating fantabulous new vocabulary.

“Mama? I have to tell you a really funny word.” Watch out, though. It’s not exactly a word, per se.

“Once I was mad, and then I farted out A BIG POO!”

Warned you. Not a word.

By now she has featured poo in just about every narrative and comedic delivery mechanism I’m aware of. No, wait, not a sonnet. And not haiku. Though I fear that’s around the corner.

I wish I knew when the end of this phase will be, since it’s not anywhere in sight. All’s I know is, if a talent agent casting for The Aristocrats: Part Deux calls, I am sooo telling them she’s busy.

8 Responses to Scat Friday

  1. AllieGreenhouse August 24, 2007 at #

    We had several years of this, I’m afraid. Our son’s favourite joke was:
    “Knock, knock!”
    “Who’s there?”
    “Poo”
    “Poo who?”
    “Splat! Poo in your face!”
    Seems to have finally waned – he’s seven now.

  2. Vikki August 24, 2007 at #

    Well…Miguel is 6 and we are still forced to endure poop and pee humor at least several times a week. It’s not daily like it was but still quite frequent. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news – I think the “phase” lasts quite awhile.

  3. LesbianDad August 24, 2007 at #

    Poo hoo, I want an appendix scar, too! Oops, that’s Madeline’s whiney orphanage-mates.

    I think I’ve got some payback coming with the phase stuff, since “a phase” was what all my wimmin-lovin’ was, in the eyes of my parents. It took my Dad at least 15 years of patient waiting (peeking past the window shade in vain hopes of a male suitor, etc.–no, for me), before he gave up the ghost.

  4. violetta August 24, 2007 at #

    Well ok the poo post has caused this avid, long time local fan to delurk.

    Ruminating over this post this am, ever so briefly, has caused me to wonder why there is not a little poo opera for tots. It’s the perfect topic, really. I even think it would be great entertainment for a, say, pagan holiday in someone’s yard?! Can you see it? It has all of the tragic elements needed: the discovery of young love (er attachment), jealously (that’s mine!), unrequited love, death (a certain liebestode, if you will, Un Bel Poo?), and the will to live in spite of this amazing and harrowing life experience. The characters would consist of the young tot, her evil (insert-family-member-here) flusher, the antagonistic diaper, heck a plumber even. Think of that lovely arias! Sets! Wow, I imagine a large John Pierre Ponelle inspired fantasy bathroom. That’s so 80’s. And there’s no reason it could not be a bit modern, with some wildy Ella-esque scatterwalling–lots of two syllable rhyming words would make this riveting for the young set. Just think of the chorus alone…

  5. snail August 28, 2007 at #

    haha, I went to visit my little god-sister down the street (she’s about five and otherwise adorable) the other day and she too has hit the scatological-humor streak. We amateur potters like to make her miniature tea cups for her dolls to play with–alas, they have all become tiny training toilets with handles for convenient emptying. On anyone nearby. With sound effects. Alas.

    At least her stuffed animals are scrupulously hygienic. After walking them through all the various…business…she always has them wash their hands most carefully.

  6. Shelli August 28, 2007 at #

    Greaaaaaaat. I can’t wait.

    Malka, I fear, will be a “poo master” – and not to worry, P. – we’ll have the sonnets ready for you.

  7. Mrs.Micah September 8, 2007 at #

    Oh dear, I think I remember part of that phase. It still embarrasses me.

  8. Tamara Granger February 24, 2011 at #

    Ohhh Im a jazz lover…and the Ella reference made me smile also… I always thought that if I ever have a daughter (not that I really wanna right now) I would name her Ella 😀

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