I asked him if he wanted to try to sit on the potty. I dangled some marshmallows in front of him and he was sold. He tore off his diaper and sat on the potty.
He sat and sat and sat and sat. He was also giving me a play by play.
I passed gas. Can I have a marshmallow?
The rules are that something has to come out of his body, gas does not count.
After 45 minutes of both of us sitting in the guest bathroom, I started getting claustrophobic. I moved his toilet out into the family room, so I could at least watch Georgia get murdered by LSU.
Nothing ever came out, but I did give him a few marshmallows for his good faith effort.
I asked him if he wanted to put his diaper back on and he refused. I asked him if he wanted to put on his underwear and for the first time ever he said YES! This is a really big deal. Usually he loses his marbles at the sheer mention of underwear.
I bound up and down the stairs and returned with a tiny pair of tighty-whities. These things are so cute, I can't stand it.
Big E pulls them right up. I am so excited, I plotz.
We spend the next hour playing and watching the game. I repeatedly ask Big E if he has to use the potty. I get the same answer every time.
Big E then asks for dinner. He climbs up on the bar stool and enjoys some dinner.
Everything is going fantastic. This whole potty training thing is going to be a snap. What ever was I worried about?
As he was climbing down from his seat post dinner, I noticed a look of panic flash across Big E's face. I looked down on the floor. There it was in all its glory. Lake Lanier. On the floor of my kitchen.
Fortunately for me, I have Poodle Yoy and am used to cleaning up urine. I went to work and I tried not to make a big deal out of it. I didn't want Big E to get upset and not want to wear his underwear anymore.
I pulled off the soiled tighty-whities and Big E proceeded to run around naked until bath time.
I consider this a small step in the daunting task of training. He didn't go on the toilet, but he finally put on his underwear.
Score one for Mrs. Yoy.
This picture is bullsh*t, by the way. There is no one smiling in this process, except maybe the manufacturers of toddler underwear.