Kicking And Screaming, I Tell You

The boy is dragging me into potty training. I’m not ready yet. He isn’t either, really. (For clarification, I’m potty trained. He’s not.) And we’re dealing with an issue that could, um, make things a bit more difficult. (I’ll spare you the details. This time.)

My fabulous plan had been to 1) put it off as long as possible, 2) wait until we were spending 80% of our days outside, with at least half of that being in the pool, and 3) be able to hose him off after an accident and him think it was fun, not frigid.

So far, those plans have been shot to pieces.

One day last week out of the clear blue nowhere, Caedmon insisted on wearing undies. In the past, he’s gotten the idea to use the potty in the afternoons, mostly while I was cooking dinner. Because his timing is impeccable. But this time, his little mind was made up first thing in the morning. And he did a pretty good job of keeping those undies dry, too.

I figured it would be just like all the other times. We’d go potty 87 times in one day, then he’d have absolutely zero interest the next day. But that has not been the case. He’s asked to wear undies nearly every day. And if we’re home, I’ve been letting him.

He’s still not “there” yet. I don’t think he fully gets what he’s supposed to do (or not do), exactly. Thus the reason I wanted to wait a bit longer. But I don’t want to squash his interest. Because knowing my luck, if I put him off now, he’d be going to kindergarten before he ended up potty trained. And it’s sad but true that buying diapers for that long would bother me more than having a kindergartener who wasn’t potty trained.

So I’m going along with it. He’s a smart little guy, and he’ll probably have it figured out pretty soon, if he really wants to. He’s always been able to figure out something if it was important to him. And maybe this is right now. I suppose time will tell.

Meanwhile, I’ll be doing some extra laundry. Don’t tell Al on me.