OCD, junior

When you marry an anal retentive man, it means you’re going to have a clean house and probably anal-retentive kids.

Every day Cole watches Dada do his Obsessive-Compulsive wiping, swiffering, vacuuming, and now he’s starting to get into it himself. "All Clean!" is one of his proudest exclamations. He’ll abduct a diaper wipe from his changing station to the kitchen and use it to wipe down all the surfaces he can reach – floor, chairs, table, refrigerator. Then he’ll beam at me proudly, "All Clean!" Except really it’s not so clean, since he usually does the floor and then uses the same wipe on all the other surfaces, but who am I to be a stickler for details when the boy is showing enthusiasm about cleaning?

Don't get me wrong, Cole definitely has his moments of smearing chocolate pudding all over everything in site then squealing "Mess! Mess! Mess!" But not only does he enjoy making a good mess, he enjoys cleaning it up. If you give him a wet rag, he’ll wipe the table until the pudding is all gone and clean his hands and face as well.

He’s been pushing a broom or swiffer or vacuum attachment around since he could walk. This month he’s stepped it up a notch and has started removing the disposable swiffer cover and depositing it into the trashcan himself when he’s done. Dan is so proud!

The cleaning ladies are 2 of his favorite people ever. This past week when they came he started shouting "Clean! Clean!" He can’t take his eyes off them. He follows them around and steals their swiffer and their vacuum.

So what happens when such a fastidious child finds himself with his own turd floating beside him in the bathtub? You would think a big brown squishy thing, especially one bobbing in the water, would be fascinating to most toddlers. There is a particularly repulsive story my mom tells of me as a toddler pooping in my dad’s shoe as she was getting my bath ready, then squishing it, smearing it everywhere, even tasting it. Cole is definitely not like me in this regard. This week Oma and I heard him grunting while in the bathtub, then we looked down and saw a man-size lumpfish floating up from under his rear-end. What was priceless was the look of horrified disgust on his face as he laid eyes on his poop, as if he could not imagine anything more repugnant. He sat there stunned, then he let out the whimpering "Nooooo, Noooooo" reserved for the most offensive events, like when I took him on his first ride at the state fair and he got scared, or when he bites into a piece of chicken or waffle and it’s too hot. Even after I swooped in and picked him up out of the turd-infested waters, he was still visibly upset. So I got a plastic (DISPOSABLE!) cup and scooped the poop and carried it over to the toilet. "See, Cole. Poo-poo goes in the potty." Flush! Down it went, and Cole was immediately relieved… as if he knew everything was in it’s place.