Oh come ON.

Don’t pretend you didn’t KNOW I was gonna devote an entire post to that phrase. I was entirely too proud of it to leave it in the comment stream for Tuesday’s post.

Today I told Charlie that I think I’ve found my niche as a blogger.

Wonderful news! What is it?

It’s poop!

…That’s … great. I’m so happy for you.

Yeah, I know! When commenters started telling me they were gonna come to me with their poop problems, I began to worry. Then after being called a poop genius, I went, ‘Oh crap.’  ….Oh!….Heeheeheehee! Did you see what I did there?…

(rolls eyes)

Now seriously, I really believe that this is an overlooked mommy skill. Think about it.

Do police dogs know how to detect and analyze poo? No, they’re too “busy” finding drugs and weapons and criminals.

Have you ever heard of the people on CSI solving a crime by analyzing poo left at the scene? No, you have not.

(But I don’t watch CSI, so for all I know, maybe they did air a Poo Episode. Please, send me a link if they did. I must see it.)

Do FBI profilers use potty habits to come up with a description of a potential bad guy? No.

Although, it could be very useful if they could pinpoint what time of day the bad guy did his business. Think of all the successful arrests.

And the news media? Would have a great time: “Bank robber caught with pants down!”

See? Valuable skill. Someone needs to share this with the world. Now that I plan to devote my blog to poo, I present to you…

Excremental Telepathy in Mothers: A probing look.

Probing… *snort*

Only an experienced mommy can (and will ever have a need to) …

Squeeze a baby’s bum and determine: 1) If the diaper contains a load; and 2) If the baby has already sat in it and squeezed it into a little pancakey residue that fills all crevices and is impervious to baby wipes.

(Am I the only mom who, when her first born was potty-trained, was shocked to discover that Baby’s poo was naturally cylindrical and not flat?)

(Okay. Maybe I was.)

Walk into a room, and with one casual inhalation, determine a) that somebody in that room pooped, b) who it was, and c) whose turn it is to change the little perp.

Now I’m not talking about a room with only ONE diaper-clad suspect. Even a dad can figure that out.

No, I propose that you can put a mom of any age into a church nursery full of screaming toddlers who ate Froot Loops for dinner the night before, and the minute one of them poops a rainbow, she will know and take action.

Peer into a toilet after her toddler has done his business, and after a momentary panic at the sight of what appear to be little black bugs in the poo, deduce that Junior ate raisins within the last 24 hours.

This is true even if the mom wasn’t the one to feed them. With a glance, she can tell what meal, how many raisins, and whether they were Sun-Maid or generic.

Get more excited than she did at 17 when asked to prom – by the cutest guy in school, even – when her toddler “PUTS A POOPY IN THE POTTY!”

Complete with proclamations to Daddy and the Poopy Song and Dance. (Confetti would be cool too.)

Assume the position of Wiper in Chief with said toddler.

Come running when toddler bellows, “I NEED WIPED!” Stand facing child on toilet. Instruct child to bend self in half, head between Mom’s knees and arms clinging to Mom’s knees. Wipe. Scrub hands until raw. (Or was that just me?)

Become the Bathroom Police when the child reaches school-age.

Say things like, “How long have you been in there?” or “I sent you to bed 2 hours ago,” or “Did you take your Nintendo DS/DVD player in there?” or “You’re gonna get hemorrhoids!” at least once a day.

***

Yup. My niche: Everyone poops.

Coming up: An investigative piece on why, with all our mad excremental telepathy skillz, we moms cannot KEEP ourselves from checking a diaper in the most primitive (and often disgusting) way:

In the dark. With a finger through an opening.

Why do we keep DOING that?

(Next time! On Geraldo!)