Spoiled? No poop.

People have been telling us we're spoiling Max. I've always considered cries and whimpers as his way of communicating since he can't speak the language. The books say that answering his cries establishes that he can trust us. I've also read that he can't manipulate us prior to 6 months. Still, numerous people have said we're spoiling him...whatever that means.

If he cries, you don't need to pick him up.
Let him cry for a while and he'll stop.
He's training you.
It's conditioning.
Blah.
Blah. Blah.
Blah.

So, when he was in his Bumbo chair this morning all smiling and sitting like a big boy, I talked to him, and we made faces and noises back and forth. I noticed he was leaning over to his left, so I righted him. He didn't like that one bit. He frowned at me and assumed his original position before returning to all smiles.

I figured it was a good time to clean the kitchen. I'd just begun unloading the dishwasher when the whimpers began. I talked to him and let him see my face. He returned to smiles.

Hmm. Maybe there's something to that conditioning after all.

I returned to the kitchen where the whimpers turned into little cries. I told myself that I needed to let him be independent for his own good. I refuse to be one of those mothers who rushes in and rescues a kid who doesn't need it. What kind of man will he turn out to be if I do that?

But I couldn't stand to hear him sad. As soon as I picked him up, he stopped crying. For an instant, I thought everyone was right.

For an instant, I thought maybe Max doesn't cry when he needs something...maybe he just cries when he needs me.

Then I noticed it. When I lifted him a waterfall of poop fell from his diaper and cascaded into the puddle already formed in his Bumbo chair.

That was the reason he was leaning over. He's no dummy. He didn't want to sit in sewage.

I didn't know where to put him to clean him up. He was dripping mustardy poop from his socks and his onesie. Of course, since I was holding him, he was completely happy. And what does he do when he's happy? He kicks his legs. Yeah, you get the picture now.

As I wondered what to do with him, I thought of my friend, who in a state of panic because her little niece had pooped on her foot, placed the child on the front porch while she sorted out the mess. Although it halfway sounded like a good idea, I didn't do it.

Instead I managed to clean him up.

I, on the other hand, am a different story. I just noticed that I've gone the whole day with poop on my shirt.

Am I one of those moms? You know, the kind who go around with bagels in her teeth with the constant smell of baby poop where an expensive perfume once lingered?

I will not be one of those moms.

Oh, and my kid isn't spoiled. He just doesn't like to sit in poop.