Thursday, September 27, 2012

Potty Training: A Qualified Success Story

I hope that John doesn't one day read this and become incensed that I felt at liberty to discuss his bodily functions so freely with all of our friends and family. Surely he'll enjoy the stories as much as we do, right? (John, if you're reading this, you should know that it is every child's burden to live with embarrassing stories from his childhood until everyone in his parent's generation is incapacitated. I know this from experience.)

We've hung in there with potty training. John goes reliably on the potty and proudly announces "I went tee tee!" whenever he emerges from the bathroom successful.

If I'd known exactly what I was getting into, I might have waited to initiate it. But, since we're in the middle of it, we may as well keep going. It is very manageable right now, but no more manageable than having two kids in diapers, really. I suppose I'd convinced myself that having only one in diapers would afford me all sorts of extra time that I could use for lounging and eating bon bons. Not so.

He rarely tells me when he needs to go (he's far too busy) so I have to keep on top of it, taking him often. Our saving grace has been that he doesn't have to go that much. Some children seem to go a lot more often than others. John only goes maybe 4 times per day, so it's not hard for me to keep up with. But when I lose track occasionally, he does have accidents.

One thing that we haven't had to deal with is going  #2 on the potty. He still wears diapers over night and during naps, and 99.9% of the time this is when he goes #2. There is that 0.1% of the time that adds a little unpredictability to our lives, spices things up!

Last Friday on our way to a church retreat, we stopped to eat at Panera. John suddenly stopped chatting and eating. He lowered his brow and grew still and extremely focused. I thought he might be contemplating one of mankind's perpetual conundrums (which came first, the chicken or the egg?) No. He was just pooping his pants.

You'd be in for an unpleasant surprise if you mistook that doggie bag for a delicious pastry we decided to bring home. I'll let you guess what's inside.

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