Well, folks, it looks like I have a potty-trained child. Aren’t you thrilled? If you read this blog regularly, you are, because this means you will now get to enjoy a vast array of new topics related to world affairs, recipe mishaps, and celebrity speculation, instead of all things poop and poopy pants and pedestrian angst.
Until Thing Two, of course. Three cheers for 2013!
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I can’t tell you what happened really. It was the slightest turn of a phrase, the smallest inflection, the merest twist of a tongue, the ittiest bittiest lilt of a question — do you need to go potty? — and it struck him just right. Must have been a full moon, or my mother was praying that millisecond. Yes. Yes, he did need to go. And all this week he has.
Today was a big milestone because it was actually HIS idea. He suggested it, like how you might suggest there are dishes in the sink or that the doorbell has rung, which is why I feel permission to announce his accomplishment is official and perhaps drink something alcoholic.
I guess I DO have an idea about what happened. We had started withholding most everything that makes life enjoyable in this cold, cruel world — Caillou and Wii and Mater and pumpkin ice cream — and there’s only so much deprivation a four-year-old can stand. He decided he didn’t want to live in a world like that, a world of piddly old Sesame Street and Legos and Mickey Mouse and Oreos. Just wasn’t good enough. He had tasted Chili’s and was not willing to settle for Chili’s Too. (Why does anyone except in bleak airport situations?)
When I’ve watch him sitting on the potty this week, making my dreams come true, I study his gerbil face to see if I can see what has been holding him back so long. Do I detect him overcoming fear? Is he resigning himself to giving up another part of his life to my control? Is he trying to make me proud?
YES. Yes to all of that.
But mostly he’s biting the bullet so he can play Wii.
When I dropped him off at preschool today, I came this close to bragging all over him to his teacher but then remembered that he was supposed to have been potty trained all this time. Ha! I thought. I have done it! I have beaten the system! And for someone who has never tried to beat any system in her whole life, I’m beginning to think that crime might really pay. I’ll be parking in the handicapped spot at Target before you can say “white collar!” I’ll use the word “handicapped” shamelessly in common parlance! And thus begins my descent.
Thanks for rooting for me, everybody. It’s been a couple of years since this whole saga began and a little part of me will miss the blog fodder, and the excuse to indulge in self-pity. I’m sure I’ll find something to fill the void in no time.
After all, Christmas is just around the corner.
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