My Poopy Beast

Most people, when they hear the word “beast,” think of a large, dangerous, four-legged animal.  For me, though, the word “beast” brings to mind a small, loud, two-legged animal.  It brings to mind the horrifying noise that a certain small beast makes from her crib at 6:00 a.m.—“I need a go pee-pee in da potty!!!”  The beast howls relentlessly until I stumble through the dark to help her.

This beast stands naked in the bathtub assaulting my ears while I hang her jammies upside down over the toilet to shake the feces out of the left footy, hollers while I wipe feces off the tile with a disinfectant wipe, wails while I scrub feces of the toilet seat with more disinfectant wipes, shrieks while I wash feces off the toilet bowl’s exterior with yet more disinfectant wipes, and yelps while I scrape feces off the step stool under the bathtub faucet.

Yes, the word “beast” does not remind me of cattle or lions.  It reminds me of a much noisier, smaller, more irksome two-legged beast that roars while I sluice down her poopy legs, that bellows while I scrub her poopy bottom, that growls while I carefully clean the poop off her face, that moans while I rinse her curls (just in case).

I think of a beast that, as I towel her dry and slather her with lotion, finally stops whimpering.  Suddenly she squeals with excitement, “I need a go pee-pee in da potty!!!!”  I start scrubbing the bathtub, and she climbs onto her potty seat.  She tinkles on the toilet, wearing an enormous grin.  For a moment she is blessedly quiet, and then the beast starts shrieking again:  “I need a potty tweat!  I need a potty tweat!”

My two-legged beast



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2 Responses to My Poopy Beast

  1. Anthony Mitchell


  2. Lara Updike

    Wow! I had forgotten how beastly she was three years ago!

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