MommyPoo

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS POTTY-TRAINING SPECIFICS. DO NOT READ IF YOU CANNOT OR DO NOT APPRECIATE POTTY HUMOR. I don't know how or when I crossed this line, but I did, and now I'm going to write about it.

The Boy is potty trained. Have I said this before? Well this time it's true. Five days without a diaper, and less than a hand's-count of accidents, I consider this to be a done-deal. I have Grandpa & Leta to thank. I consider this to be the best gift ever received, and little do they know, they've positioned themselves perfectly to be the Potty Training Committee Chairpeople for Kid #2.

However, all is not perfect in Big-Boy-Panty-Land. The Boy is having a hard time with the #2 portion in his new found role as friend-of-the-toilet. Prior to 10 minutes ago, The Boy had not had taken this big...ahem... step since Friday (that's 3 days). He's had to go, he's announced it numerous opportune times, but the effort just wasn't producing results. Well, finally, after days of stomach issues (and telling me his "poo poo's stuck"), I don't think he had any choice. He was in the bathroom for a good 10 minutes. Since this is a big event, we were all in there looking in the toilet and cheering him on like he was the lead horse rounding the final bend at the Kentucky Derby. When the dirty deed was complete, The Boy pointed to the little piece and said, as if he'd just birthed a human being, "that's the baby poo". Then, in order of size, named them "That's mommy poo, and that's the daddy poo." I never thought having a piece of crap named after me would be so sweet.

....And we're off!