In case you haven’t been following my blog (in which case, you and I really need to have a talk) I have been attempting to potty train my little man, Jack, for the past several months.  It hasn’t worked.  He could care less.  I think he actually likes peeing his pants.  I’m in big trouble.  

But, he recently celebrated his 3rd birthday which has prompted me to hit the training a little harder, i.e. make him wear underpants.  And it’s been hell.  Truly. 

Nary a day goes by where I’m not subjected to him standing in front of me, watching his pant legs darken as he pees down the front of his legs.  Or hiding in his sister’s bedroom while he tinkles on her carpet.  My reaction?  “Jack!  Why didn’t you use the potty?  You ruined your big-boy pants!”  His response?  ”Oh, man.  I peed again.  I need new unerpants.”  Gawd. 

Getting that kid new “unerpants” 4100 times a day weighs a little heavy on my heart, folks.  I have visions of him attending Harvard medical school on a full-ride academic scholarship (hey, it’s a dream) and running home every 90 minutes so I can get him new big boy pants because he “made a messy.”  We’ll have to move to Connecticut just to keep the kid in clean underpants!  It’s very disheartening.

Okay, it was bad before.  But it just got worse.  Much worse.  Two days ago.

There I was,  minding my own business and enjoying a little bit of silence while Jack was taking his nap.  Or so I thought.  I was doing what I do (you got it, folding laundry) when I heard his bedroom door open quickly and shut even quicker.  I thought, “Oh, here we go.  Time for the sparring match,” and headed down the hallway to force him back in bed.  I rounded the corner and that’s the moment when I realized things had gone too far.  This attempt at potty training has hit a major misstep and we now have a new problem and having only potty trained one other child I have no answers.

Here it is.

Jackson apparently pooped his diaper while napping, climbed down from his bunk bed, cleaned up his own bottom, wrapped the wipies up in his dirty diaper and deposited it outside his bedroom door.

Yeah.

He left it there in the hallway like he was visiting some swanky hotel and was leaving his dirty laundry out to be dry-cleaned.  “Lady, I need that cleaned ASAP.  Take care of it.”

After picking myself back up off the floor I went into Jack’s room and found him laying in his bed…buns in the air…commando-style.  I tried to be mad but seeing that little boy laying there sunny side up I just couldn’t find it in my heart.  I climbed up his ladder, threw a diaper on him and let him finish his nap knowing we would later have a little talk about  it. (ETA:  We did talk about it and he promised he would never do it again. Mm hmm.)

So, now I am regrouping and restrategizing my approach to this whole situation.  Jack has changed the name of the game now, folks.  And I have to be ready to meet him tit-for-tat. 

I know he won’t be wearing diapers in medical school, but I wouldn’t mind him kicking his habit sometime before the first grade.

Love to all, Mindy