Today delivered a perfect lesson to my children on why this is the case, with visual poetry that couldn’t (shouldn’t) ever be replicated.
Barnaby took his pound coin along with him to the potty. He proceeded to drop it in, WHILST MID-SHIT, and continued to cover it with the largest pile of toddler poo I have ever seen. You could fertilise entire fields with that much excrement.
The dilemma is – do you put on gloves and fish out the poo-pound? Or slop the lot down the loo and risk blocking it, thus risking further (potentially horrific, adult) poo catastrophes at a later date?
The gloves won out.
The poo pound is currently resting on a high shelf. It has been washed. It is shiny. It looks like new.