Okay, remember how I was going to be all YAY POTTY TRAINING this month? Uhm, yeah… well, that didn’t work out. We tried…sort of. We’ve taken many opportunities to make asses of ourselves, sing silly songs, read the Elmo potty book in an effort to get him pumped about going potty. He’s not buying what we’re trying to sell.
So yeah, yeah, I know. DON’T PUSH IT. I hear you. I’m not trying to traumatize the kid through acts of desperation, though I’ve tried bribing SEVERAL times with no luck. Thing is, if I can get him to go on the potty just once, then I can give him something so magical and off limits any other time, like a big bowl of ice cream… or a lighter, and then he’d understand the power he can wield by going potty. Until then, though, he just doesn’t get it. I can’t give him these magical things *before* he goes potty. This isn’t like a promissory note situation. No. I need actual results to reward first. I feel like this is a very “chicken or the egg” scenario. /excuses
But the kid still doesn’t like poop on his butt. He still likes to undo his diaper whenever he poops instead of doing the logical thing, which would be to use his super secret language that he KNOWS I understand to tell me to change his diaper.
Tonight I chased him around the living room and saw him stop to pick something up. I caught his hand halfway to his mouth and intercepted what I THOUGHT was a pretty big yogurt covered raisin that had the yogurt sucked off of it.
“What is that?” I said as I held it in a pincer grasp and brought it closer to my eyes. As it came in to focus I noticed the texture and color wasn’t so much like that of a raisin but like that of a ball of SHIT.
I shrieked as I threw it down and simultaneously swept Kendall away from it. “OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, EWWWWWWW! SCOTT!”
The kid almost ate his own poop tonight. Okay, to be honest I’m not entirely sure that he didn’t. He could have got to another turdlet without me knowing it, although I’m hopeful the dogs took care of the situation before he could, considering they both lunged at the one I threw back on the ground and Scott had to fight them off of it.
So then I change his diaper, and he mangaes to get away from me before I could put his pants on. Oh well, I figured I’d let him run around for a little bit with just a diaper. I was too tired to fight it. Minutes later I hear “Uh oh,” which almost never means something accidental and almost always means he did something he shouldn’t have on purpose.
He’s taken his diaper off and is running around the house naked, with the exception of the diaper liner stuck between his crack, which he eventually catches a glimpse of out the corner of his eye, reaches around and yanks it out, leaving it on the kitchen floor. He proceeds to runs around the house, poop falling out of him at every turn. By the time we navigate our way through the minefield that is our living room to catch him and get him seated on the big boy potty, he’s completely emptied his system, and laughing like a mad man.
So I spend the evening picking up poop, chasing a naked toddler, talking about Elmo and potties, and I wonder just how the hell we will ever even get around to getting pregnant again because NONE OF THIS is 1. putting me in “the mood” or 2. making me think how fun it will be to do this all over again.
Kendall is 5 days shy of 21 months old, and I think this is his genius plot to make sure he’s an only child
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