Poop Interrupted

So, awhile back I wrote about how my stubborn little Annie was getting in trouble at school. I panicked and scheduled an appointment with a child psychologist that was on the referral sheet my pediatrician gave me when we moved in. After meeting with my pediatrician, she talked me off the ledge and assured me a psychologist was definitely overkill. She thinks Annie is spirited, and bored in school, and would benefit from a Montessori program- which is food for thought when we move. But, because I'm neurotic, when the psychologist called to say they had a cancellation and could see me the next day, I went.

What a sham. I paid $250 for an "assessment' that I could have gotten off of babycenter for free. The whole hour, the psychologist basically told me that I needed to enroll Annie in a playgroup (i.e. group therapy- for 3 year olds! Ridiculous) to dampen her controlling will. When I asked what kind of other kids would be in this "playgroup"---- (no offense here folks,) what she described were short-school-bus freaks. Oh, did I mention this playgroup is not covered by insurance and would cost $500 a month?

After sharing this with Annie's preschool director- she agreed that this was ridiculous. My kid simply loves attention- both good, and bad. She's also a bit controlling, which means she'll grow up to be a very successful person like my mother-in-law (who calls Annie "Hellfire 3" by the way). There's a new program, sponsored by a local university, that likes to work with spirited 3 and 4 year olds, to help them adjust in school. I thought this sounded interesting- and our home visit was today.

The loveliest lady paid us a visit this afternoon. She came bearing gifts- pamphlets, case studies and a dvd for us to watch. Annie immediately tried to befriend her, and after wowing her with her tales of Winnie the Pooh, Annie excused herself to go potty. As we continued our discussion--- horrendous sounds of bowel explosions started coming from our bathroom. At first, I nervously giggled, and explained to the woman that we had recently finished potty training. As the sounds continued, intermingled with vehement replies from Annie that "everything was a-ok", I said a quick goodbye to our visitor and shuffled her out the door.

As I walked down the hallway, I was overcome by a stench that reminded me of a drunken spring break in Mexico. My Annie- my beautiful, adorable, imaginative Annie- for the FIRST TIME IN HER LIFE, decided to finger paint the bathroom with her poop- DURING A BEHAVIOR ASSESSMENT. Thank God the woman left before I found this, because my shrieks of horror would have definitely influenced her impression of our home, don't you think?