Okay, folks. Stop the celebrating. Put the champagne away. Set that mozzarella stick down. My victorious mood from yesterday has gone a teensy bit awry.
Based on the events of today, I’m thinking that Jack isn’t quite ready tocompletely succomb to the world of the non-diaper wearing. In fact, a few times today I was wondering who force-fed my baby Fiber One bars which prompted multiple needs to poop his pants. That’s right. You heardme correctly. Poop his pants. His pants.
Regardless of numerous reminders to use the potty, the kid just couldn’t bring himself to do the big deed. That is until he was supposed to be napping while wearing a pull-up, because trusting him to sleep without peeing the bed would be like trusting a opossum to not die while crossing the road. Theodds aren’t real great. So, during Jack’s naptime he managed to cross all his wires correctlyand move the bowels. In the pull-up. Which requires me to participate in the clean-up efforts. For the umpteenth-hundred time.
And, sadly, it went downhill from there. But, despite the minor setback (as minor as 1 poopy diaper and 2 soiled underpants in one day could be) I have decided to hitch up my britches and dig back in to the purpose at hand. Get the kid potty trained. He knows what to do. He knows how to do it. He knows why he should do it. Now? We just need to set the “doing it” part into full-time motion.
After all, greater tasks have been accomplished. Elizabeth Blackwell became the first woman to receive a medical degree in 1849. Climbers succeeded in ascending the summit of Mt. Everest in 1953. Smallpox was officially declared eradicated in 1980.Great things.
Let’s face it, folks. Training a kid to unload in the commodeis not rocket science. It’sa stroke of luck, timing and a little bit of resilience. So, I resolve to not delve into that vast abyss of disappointment but rather plunge head first into that miracle worker known asdetermination.
For now I will replenish the dwindling stash of pull-ups and Oxy-clean some underwear. The time of freedom is near. Until then, I’m going to snuggle that boy (and maybe sneak in some subliminal messaging while I’m at it.)