This is the post you just blow off if you really don't want to read about the "Adventures in Potty Training"
This entry was posted on 6/7/2007 9:35 AM and is filed under uncategorized.
I bring this up because today shall hereby be referred to as "The Day The Boy Finally Decided to Use the Bathroom in Lieu of Stinking Up the Whole Damn House." He didn't really decide to do it on his own. I am just holding his diapers hostage.
And boy is he pissed off.
E: I wanna wear my DIAPER.
K: Uh, no.
E: DIIIIIIIIIII-A-per.
K: Let me think...... uh, no.
I can't do it anymore. If, when I am discussing with your father whether or not we should go get i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m and you say, "I go eye cream, Mama," I think it's safe to say that you can take care of your OWN nastiness from here on out.
I guess the final straw was when, for the 100th time in his life, he climbed up onto my lap and began grunting. I'm sure my sister would say something like, "see, he feels secure enough with you" or some other crap, but do you know what I see? My son coming over to crap on me. That was it. That and it's T minus 14 days until we go to Nana's house and she perhaps mentions that The Boy could be potty trained if I had more time to do it.
Off came his diaper. And I pulled out all the stops.
K: If you put ANYTHING in the potty, you can have a malted milk ball.
He looked at me suspiciously. What was this "malted milk ball" and would it be as good as, say, blueberries?
I gave him a piece of the bait in order to lure him in. Then I gave him the biggest cup of blueberries and a glass of OJ to wash them down. Two items that must be repelled from the intestines IMMEDIATELY upon contact. And I turned on the first of 30 Dora episodes we are going to watch today, seated on the portable throne located in front of the t.v.
I think he is going to have permanent potty marks on his ass. Which beats the hell out of diaper rash.
I'm off to dump the mini loo again....
