While Rob was home, Kota and Bryant have followed him around… I guess they were afraid he might vanish into thin air again. Well, in their detective style work, they were also watching his every potty move. Pottying around here has been an ordeal all of it’s own! We’ve tried several times with Kota, and well… he’d rather make messes with it, than use the toilet.
So… a couple of weeks ago, my hunk of redneck man decided to ‘hose the grass’ in the front yard… If you’ve never been married to a country boy, I can’t explain their NEED to do this…it’s a territory thing. Their yard, they MUST mark it. Well, in doing this, his little shadow Kota saw him and thought it was the coolest thing ever! HURRAY, suddenly he’s interested in pottying! (even if it was in the yard) So he stood there with daddy, pants down, smile on his face, aiming at the perfect patch of grass….and nothing…. he pushed and grunted and nothing happened. So Daddy says, “OK, we’ll try again later, lets go in.”
Kota walks into the house in tears and fits because he couldn’t water the grass. He threw a fit in my kitchen, as I stirred dinner, claiming he MUST tee tee in the grass. So I take his hand and head back outside with him. He walks around 15 spots in the front yard til he found ‘his’ spot. He pulled down his pants and began to tinkle…more like a dribble really, down his hand, on his pants and then finally one lone drop hit the grass, and HURRAY, mission accomplished! All was well with the world again. Proud mom and son burst in the front door to announce to Daddy that “We did it, yeah we did it!” <–Thank you Dora, for the “we did it” song.
Next potty adventure, we decided it was time to try the real potty…First try…. FAIL! Kota goes to lift the lid, gripping his sippy cup in his teeth, and in one brief moment it ends with tears and Daddy fishing a sippy out of the toilet.
Following attempt, Kota and Daddy were lined around the toilet, pants down as I’m standing at the door, grinning at what a humorous photo the scrapbooker in me thinks this moment would be! Anyway, I digress… Daddy’s stream is right on target, as Kota watched along in awe…. Then Kota goes…. And then Kota’s hand goes….. IN the STREAM! “Yay, Daddy, look water!” Neither of us able to control our laughter long enough to tell him, NO, YUCK, STOP! After much hand-washing, Proud MOMMY does the ‘we did it dance’ once again with him….
Next attempts…..Almost perfect… he still has some work on his grasp and hold technique, but his aim is pretty decent for a little guy! After several more tries, and lots of dances, we are starting to think we are getting the hang of this, and then things turn ugly.
Setting: Daddy and Kota standing spread legged around the toilet, aiming for that perfect shot, and of course Daddy goes first, Kota looks up and says “Yay Daddy, Good Job”, and proceeds to (WARNING NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH) lean over the potty to watch the stream hit the water….. Yes, you got it, his head goes RIGHT in the stream, Daddy tried to stop, and I tried to grab his shoulders, but it was TOO LATE it got him. I was laughing so hard I had to wipe the tears away before I could even say “Okay, lets go upstairs to the tub since Daddy PEED on your head.” Yep folks….. Daddy peed on his head! Funny now, surely not in a few years when he retells this story in group therapy.
Even that didn’t seem to slow down his potty train. Then a few days ago, I said… Hey, wanna go potty? “Yeah Mommy, POTTY!” So off we go into what had now become the new family hangout. So I’m standing there, as a cheering section because he can’t seem to go without an audience. He picks the lid up, pulls down his pants and stands there. After a moment or two I hear a grunt, then he leans way into the toilet…nothing… a moment later another grunt, then a tiny toddler poot, and as I turn my head to giggle, he looks up at me, with ‘little buddy’ in hand, and says “Momma, I’m funny”. Yep, son you are sure funny. He turned back to concentrate on the task at ‘hand’, grunts again, and reaches around to scratch his butt…. Now I’m thinking….. ‘Wow, you are your father’s son…’ Finally after what seemed ages standing there, he stomps past me, pants around his ankles, tears in his eyes, crying…. ‘My goober is brokie!” Oh great… something else in the house that has gotten broken!
After trying unsuccessfully to explain to him that NO, his goober was one thing around here his destructive little hands hadn’t broken, he decided pottying was not worth trying anymore. So now we are back where we started, he refuses to go near the potty, and it’s getting too cold to try outside again!