Well, it's finally happened. Dan and I have agreed to tighten those reins and get this boy potty trained. So what that really means is that it is time for me to spend all my hours a day running that blonde beauty back and forth to the restroom, over and over and over.
It's not that he's not old enough- good grief he is 3 1/2! It's not that he's not capable- I find him purposely peeing inside of strange things like pretend pots and checkers. It's that I have been a tad, alright, alot lazy in forcing him to do it.
It's exhausting. Mopping up accidents, scrubbing carpets, washing towels and wet clothes. Not to mention the whole 'we can't go out in public' thing. The other day we were out in Target, and Sam was wearing underpants, I was like a nervous cat the entire time. I have allowed him the freedom to wear pull ups most of the time, so that if he has an accident it is all contained. But in turn, the little devil just pees in them and then changes his own dag gone diaper.
So we are on day number 2 of really really really cracking down on this potty thing. I found him in the front yard today wearing only underwear, and they were wet to boot. Ugh.
But little man starts preschool Monday (nothing like waiting until the last minute) and I don't want to send him in pull ups. So it's all or nothing. So far, so good, well- maybe not good but okay at least. He has the hang of it, he does #2 there always and has for months, I just can't allow him to forget or else he pees all over the place.
Today, while using the restroom, he informed me that I am not to put the lid down EVER again. I must always leave it up, he said.
Good one kid. You live in a house that has more women than men- you will be the one lifting that lid (or we might end up with another situation where Emily falls in the toilet- and that was not pretty let me tell you).