Oh, I've had my fleeting glimpses of glory with potty training. Bursting with pride, making long distance telephone calls to loved ones in far away lands telling them of his urinary prowess. I was so proud of the lackadaisical pisser. So much so that I bought a giant sized box of gummi snacks as his special treat of choice a few weeks ago containing 72 fricking packets when things were full speed ahead, gung ho. Not so fast, lady. I think I have 70 packets left. The red Baby Bjorn potty chair sits collecting dust. Can you hear it's lonely echoing cry? Is that a tinkle I hear in the corner of my mind? This morning:
"Mamma, Trueby peed in the tub."
"You peed in the tub?!"
"Yeah."
"Trueby, that is just gross."
"Gwoss is wyte! Gwoss is wyte! Absowootwee."
potty training, parenting, humor
3 comments:
How old is he? He looks a little young...but who knows. I've always heard that boys take longer than girls to potty train, but I've only had one, a girl, and she took long enough, thank you.
When she was younger, like maybe 1ish, she went through a phase when the bathwater running would stimulate her bowels, and she would poop in the tub. Almost every night. It was SO FRIGGIN' GROSS. "Gwoss is wyte! Gwoss is wyte! Absowootwee."
We either had the filthiest tub in town, since it was getting pooped in constantly, or the cleanest, since it was getting scoured with comet constantly! So, with the tinkle in the tub? Count your blessings.
That Trueby sure is a riot!
Attention! SF pooped on the floor AFTER his bath this morning. What a guy, I AM lucky!
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