April 7, 2020

An Inconvenient Poop

It's the middle of a pandemic, and my son is
still working on his potty training – by which
I mean interruptions are the order of the day at
our house, serial time outs. It is inconvenient.
I'm in the middle of writing this poem, and
he asks to go poop. That is inconvenient too,
but it's better than cleaning out poopy pants,
since we're not letting him wear diapers in
the daytime anymore. He does a good job.
We high five and wash hands, and I get back
to work, slightly inconvenienced but other-
wise the wiser for it, because wisdom is
rarely convenient. It shows up in the middle
of a pandemic, demanding a time out.