Potty Talk

"This has been a banner week here at the Critical Mass household.  Q has finally figured out that diapers are for babies and he is a big boy.  He has woken up dry for the last four days and has stayed dry all day two days in a row.  Yippee!  We have officially moved onto the bribery portion of the festivities. 

Several times today, Q has told me he wanted to sit on the potty because he needed to poop.  He would sit for a minute and get down without much success.  (We did have and accidental poop make it in the pot yesterday, but I think that was more in the category of a shart.) Tonight he walked up to me with an unmistakable odor emanating from his back side.

"I have poop.  I need to sit on the potty."

"Are the poopies in your diaper or are they still in your hiney*?"  Given the cloud of funk he arrived in, I assumed it was the former.

"They are in my hiney!  I need to sit on the potty!"  Sure enough, a quick diaper perusal showed him to be correct, so we hustled to the loo to attend to business.  I got him undressed and on the throne in record time -  where he sat for about a nanosecond and declared, "I all done."

Since he hadn't pooped all day, I knew he had to go, so I suggested he wait a sec and give it another try.  No dice.  (No dooce?)  Finally, I told him that I had to go get something and that I would get him off the pot when I came back.  As I walked out of the bathroom, T stage whispered, "You can't pressure him like that!"  I ignored him because how many potty training books has he read?  Oh, right.  None.

Thirty seconds later, there was celebration from the bathroom.  T hurried into our room and said, "Q pooped!" 

"Did you make a big deal about it?"

"Yeah.  I told him I would send you in to clean him up," T said casually.  Of course he did. 

When I got back to the bathroom, I sensed that the appropriate big deal had not been made.  So I made one!  There were what-a-big-boy-you-are!s and I'm-so-proud-of-you!s in loud high pitched voices.  There were hugs and kisses.  There was much ooh-ing and ah-ing over the poop in question.  There may or may not have been some spontaneous singing and dancing in his honor, followed by the ceremonial flush and "Bye-bye, poopies!"

And sherbet.  Yes, his bribe for poop was sherbet.  Way to go, Q!

(And also?  Mah baby!  Mah baby!  How did he get so big?!?)(Sunrise, Sunset playing softly in the background)

*A couple weeks ago, we were getting ready to leave a friend's house.  I asked Q, "What's the diaper sitch? Do you have poopies?"  His reply, "No.  They are still in my hiney."  My friend declared it to be perfect blackmail material.  Probably not as much as this post, though!