I thought I was raising children...

I thought I was raising children...

Monday, March 12, 2012

Huh. Potty training. Who knew?

Boyo decided to potty train himself.

He prefers to be naked ("I NO WEAR PANTS" is his favorite thing to shout out - followed closely by "I haf knife") and it's easier to let him be naked than to fight him about it.

I was meaning to potty train him. It was on the calendar for April. Or June. Or August. Or before he started kindergarten.

It's just that I'm tired. And diapers are so much easier. And I envisioned an epic battle like with Girlie. And he's a boy -- I don't know how to teach him about all that business. And, most importantly, I'm TIRED.

So last Friday he was playing in the yard in a tshirt (and nothing else) when he started to pee. He gasped, grabbed his penis, screwed his face up tight, and ran to the bathroom, yelling, "Come on, Momma, come on! It's waining out my penis! The peepee is coming, the peepee is coming!"

I chased my little Paul Revere to the bathroom and sat him on the little potty that his sister uses. That was a problem. He's 10 lbs heavier than she is and didn't fit. When he started to pee again, he sprayed the bathroom wall.

Before I could panic, he stopped himself again. "I stand UP!" he demanded. "Like Daddy!"

So I got the stool, raised the toilet seat and taught him to grab the top of the tank and lean in -- voila! Instant success!

I made a fool of myself -- jumping up and down, clapping, praising him. He got two stickers and I told him when he had 10 we would go pick out a toy at the Disney Store ($5 max). However, I didn't realize that he had such control of his bladder, because an hour later, when he had to go again, he stopped and started 4 times in order to get the 10 stickers.

All weekend long, he used the toilet -- when he was naked. When he was wearing clothes, he had an accident. And let's not talk about poop yet. We still have some work to do. Or I can let him be naked forever.

Here's the thing though -- remember how I said I don't know about all that business? I'm a girl -- one of FOUR girls. We didn't have any boys around growing up. So when Boyo finished peeing, I was at a loss -- do I have him wipe? Do I have him dab it dry? Or do I have him shake it off? I went with shake it off.

When my husband came home, Boyo proudly showed off his new skill while my husband stared at him, agape. (Seriously. Potty training him over the weekend was not on our radar AT ALL).

Boyo finished, flushed, and then jumped up and down, arms and legs flying, penis bouncing up and down. "Is he doing the happy dance?" my husband asked me.

"No, he's shaking it dry," I replied.

"What?" my husband asked.

"Well, how else is he supposed to get it all out?" I defended.

My husband stared at me in disbelief for a minute and then said, with all the love in his heart, "You're an idiot."

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