Pooper Scooper

One of the challenges when our boys first came was that of getting stool samples from them.  It was not my most looked forward to task with eight and ten year old boys whom didn't know me well nor knew any English.  I thought I had been thorough when I had our escort, Tsedey, AND a family acquaintance (each on separate occasions)  explain to them what needed to done and how.  I left folded & labeled gallon sized Ziplocs for them to "deposit" on the back of the toilet seat.  This would be a piece of cake. Now wasn't I the most efficient, on the ball, first time adoptive mother ever?  Yes, thanks, I thought so too.


Nothing happened.  And the bags remained empty....like a ghost town.

After one week, it became clear that they had no intentions of giving me anything to bank on.  So I called up my trusty escort, Tsedey, and updated her and explained the situation.....no poop.  For once in my life, I was asking for a crappy situation to occur.  We both felt it would be better for the boys if, instead of using a gallon Ziploc, it would be easier for them to  do their jobs on a toddler's training potty.  Excellent.  I had about three of them hanging around our house since we had recently potty trained our three year old.  Tsedey then asked me to hand the phone over to the boys to explain again, in their native language, what needed to be done and why.  Both the boys' heads nodded in absolute agreement and understanding.  Ok, now I felt confident that we were now ready to rock.


For the next week my toddler potties remained sparkling clean and lonely.

These boys had not even the slightest desire to do this, and quite honestly, I did not blame them.  Crapping for complete strangers is not even remotely near the top of my "bucket list"of things to do before I die.  I called my pediatrician and explained to her the situation.  I was done, and unless I could figure out a way to squeeze them like tubes of toothpaste, nothing was going to happen anytime soon.


Several days later, my eldest son was begging for a job to do to earn some extra dough.  

Yes, my astute reader, you know where this is going don't you? 

I proceeded to explain to my unsuspecting victim, I mean darling son, that I would pay him a large sum of money per child if he could get them to poop their brains out for me......enough to fill nine vials each.  

As with any teenager, I had to lay down some ground rules like: 

You may not use laxatives of any kind. 
No substituions allowed AND 
You may not use any instruments that I cook with.


The price apparently was right and a glint in his eye appeared.

  He brainstormed and came up with the idea of a five gallon bucket, a glad bag and some heavy bribery that included the props of a Spider Man poster, a soccer ball and a jar of Nutella. 


 He then took both boys into the bathroom with him, where the Glad bag lined bucket was set up.   Here's the conversation I heard behind the closed bathroom door:


Sam:  Ok.  Here's the deal.  You guys need to crap.....a lot.  I 
           will give you a Spider Man poster if
           you poop in this bucket.  (Silence then ensues where 
           I  assume some pretty major Oscar worthy miming is
           taking place.)

Ephrem:  mmmmmmmmNO.


Sam:   Ok.  I will give you your OWN soccer ball. (I hear Sam 
           slap the soccer ball for emphasis)

Anteneh:   (with heavy accent) mmmmmmm....maybe tomorrow.

Sam:   (Heavy sigh and sounding a little unsure.)  Well........
            how about a whole jar of Nutella?


Nutella was apparently the silver bullet for our reluctant poopers.  The crap-fest that began after this was almost more than I could handle.  Both boys watched me fill the vials and when they saw they hadn't produced the amount needed, they continued to go back time and time again until all the vials were full.  Needless to say, they were both pooped out and the proud owners of their very own jar of Nutella by nightfall.  My son was also very proud of his financial windfall as a result of taking a lot of crap from others..... (tee hee, I thought that pun was funny!)


So, to all prospective adoptive parents, my son, and self proclaimed "Poop Whisperer", has informed me that you can contract him out for this difficult task for a nominal fee.  


P.S.  The results of these tests all came back negative!  Thank you Lord!