Shitting on a Mole

It is official: Germans are obsessed with their shit. Even their flipping Mole is obsessed with his shit.

Not just German toddlers, as one might think given all the toilet training conversations I’ve had over the last year, but all Germans, I’m told, have this obsession. Over at a forum I’ll just refer to for the time-being as the “unhappy spouses of people married to Germans and expats pissed they didn’t get transferred to Dubai forum,” there was recently an awesome thread started by a woman who said she was thinking of leaving her husband because she couldn’t handle the “shit analysis discussions” at the dinner table anymore.

I was never married to a German, not a real one anyway, so I can’t relate. But I can imagine. Even German-speaking non Germans, like Freud (who I keep quoting as a joke to my fellow potty-training Mamas, but whose theories no good Teuton seems to know anything about), spend an awful lot of their lives dedicated to the examination of their shit. Isn’t that what those shelf toilets are all about anyway? To help determine if your anal-retentive ways have been unhealthy?

So far, the discussion of “Ah-ah” is one I have been successfully able to avoid with the Diva-in-Training and I am *very* glad for this. She still lets everyone know when she’s farted, despite my attempts at explaining that proper ladies (and ballerinas!) don’t fart, and they sure don’t smile wickedly and announce it to the room when it happens. The closest we came to discussing doo-doo was when we recently stayed at a hotel with a bidet (oh, what a luxurious life I lead, I know — it was an appropriate counter to the squat toilets I had to train the DiT to use without pissing herself, a training which concluded with the statement “And that is why you should always wear skirts and no underwear”). Upon using the bidet for the first time, DiT announced that she would always use the potty if her bottom was always so clean afterwards.

Now what would Freud say to that?

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