Wade uses the word “poop” like people use the F-word.
Everything is poopie this and poopie that.
“Where’s my poopie blanket? I don’t wanna wear my poopie shoes! That’s a poopie spider.” And my personal favorite, “Where’s my pooping brother?”
One day I asked, “Who did you play with during Sunday School this morning?”
He answered, “Those poopie kids.”
“Wade it’s time for bed.”
“P-O-O-P-I-E,” he shouted stomping his foot.
I know poop isn’t an obscenity, but it is when Wade says it. Think about it. Poop probably is the crassest, dirtiest word he knows. (I hope.)
Wade started using poop as a curse word a few moths ago. All on his own. Nobody else in our home uses the word that way. We don’t even use real curse words. Is there some sort of innate human need to curse?
We try to stop him from saying poopie all the time. It is rude, and I don’t want him calling the kids at church poopie to their faces. But the more we tell him to stop, the more he says it.
“Wade! We told you not to say poopie all the time. It’s OK to talk about poop if you need to go potty, or you’re shoveling out a horse barn. But you don’t need to say it just to say it.”
He gave me a blank stare then launched into, “Poopie poopie poopie poopie poopie …” to the tune of the ABCs.