BIG NEWS at Chez Zimmer: We have finally had some success in persuading The Boy to use The Potty.
Ah, when Boy and Potty meet, in a non-hands-in-the-water kinda way, it is a loverly thing, indeed. A thing for which Mommy has prayed, ney, bargained with the deity of your choice, would happen before all hairs on her once nicely-coiffed head turned gray and fell out. So I hope you will forgive me if I have not updated with any fresh material in a few days. We have been very, very busy here.
People, we have pee peed on the potty.
Now, my mother, with almost 40 years of child-rearing under her belt, begun arriving in my home with Pull-Ups shortly after J's second birthday...TWENTY, count them, 2-0 months ago. In her infinite wisdom, she thought it was time to get on with business, so to speak. J thought otherwise. And we all know, when a three-year-old decides something is NOT going to happen, well, if they have any control over it whatsoever, then, friends, it is just not going to happen. J had the ultimate control on if and when (oh, God, tell me it will be "when and not "if" I pleaded silently into the black night) potty training would commence.
Well, it commenced, with very little fanfare, on Thursday. The Boy announced, in the tub, no less, (in all his squishy boy nakedness): "Mommy, I want to wear underwear."
"Well, J," says I, " Underwear are for boys and girls who put their pee pee and poops in the potty, not in their pants."
"OK." Says Boy. "I have to go potty." And he did.
The little shit had it in him (literally) the entire time and no amount of pressure from Grammy or Mom was going to coax that pee into the potty before its time. Go, Diego, Go underpants, though? Well those are pantaloons of a different color! Why didn't you mention that before, Moms? (Actually, son, I did. At ages 2 years, 2 years 4 months, 2 years 6 months, etc., etc. ad nauseum.)
Now, I am completely aware that this all comes down to peer pressure. About a month ago, we were at the park with friends. Boy's friend Jake (a year older) had to use the potty. Of course, as soon as he emerged victorious, Boy felt the urge To Go. In Public. At a Park Restroom. (Have I not mentioned my horrific phobia of public restrooms before? No? Well, mommy is about to get over that real quick, methinks.) Boy Wonder pulled down the pants, the Pull-Up (thanks for the 3 year supply, Grammy) and was all up on that potty. I do believe not a part of him left that park without touching said toilet. ewwwwwwwwwww. We go to wash our hand and of course - of COURSE - there is no soap. Strike that. Not even a soap dispenser. Not even the illusion that they might expect some sort of basic human hygiene. That was it. Mommy collected Boy Wonder, made a quick goodbye to her friend and children (potty instigators!) and proceeded to damn near strip the Boy down and disinfect him within an inch of his life in the back seat of the CR-V.
That was out first experience with Potty Peer Pressure.
This underwear thing I am down with, though. Kids in J's class are, one by one, slowly catching on and graduating to big kid pants, leaving "baby diapers" as J calls them, and Pull-Ups behind. The Boy does not like to be left behind.
We have a full arsenal (arse-enal...heh heh) of Diego training pants and Diego and Thomas big boy pants. Some Lightening McQueen may be thrown in to balance things out. If this is all it took, I am all in. Somehow, I think he may be bluffing. Weekends are a little iffy and we have to ask every 10 minutes if he has to go. After almost four years, a diaper free existence is like a mirage to me. I think he's making it up just to mess with me.
So far, so good. More from the trenches, er, latrines, later.