I was dying of poop. I'm better, but might die again.

I would guess that most parents like to imagine what their kids will grow up to be. Funny, I never really asked my mom what I was like as a kid - I know what kind of hair I had, and I remember that I liked Art better than Gym, but it would be interesting to know what she and my dad thought of me when I was too young to think of myself.

I can tell you what I think of my kids. I think Chava is going to be the kind of kid who is friends with everyone, who is totally undaunted by social cliques and the horrible discrimination I see going on in Maddox's class already. Then she's going to grow in to the kind of kid who is always up to something ("C'mon, guys, let's all show up for second grade on Tuesday with NO PANTS! It will be awesome!") but the teachers will continue to like her anyway because she's smart and really good intentioned underneath it all. Al and I have already talked about the parties she is likely to have in high school and beyond, and our need to lock up the liquor.

Maddox, I'm not so sure. I think Maddox is smart, and he has a great imagination and likes to get kids rallied around him to play some pretty complicated, made-up games (the last one involved the playground structure at school turning in to the inside of Doctor Dangerous' body, with the slide being his mouth so he could barf the kids right out). But he worries. And he gets upset easily. And he would be wayyyyy too nervous about what would happen to let his sister host a kegger at our house (maybe that's how nature takes care of us - partners siblings with such different personalities so that we minimize the amount of vomit we have to clean out of our couches).

The last two weeks have been draining. Maddox agreed that he would give up diapers and so we have spent countless hours trying to get the poop out. He begged for diapers. He held it in. And then he held it in some more. And then his belly hurt, and he still held it in. My days consisted of going to work, picking up the kids, spending time in the bathroom while Maddox screamed and cried, and washing skid marks out of underwear. I will save you from any more details. He finally went last night (after 10 days!!!) but I fear we are not quite back to the place where we can do things in the evening like, oh, maybe talk to one another.

So, what kind of kid is Maddox? He is a wonderful, loving, funny, charming, creative kid. He's a vigilent kid. He's a planner, and a thinker. And he's anally retentive. I'm not sure what that means for the years to come.