Today we have begun toilet training. Little bubby will be three in October, and he starts 2-morning-a-week preschool at the end of August, so it is time.
I've been pretty good at potty training so far, but this time life threw me a curve ball and gave me a boy. So I've been getting advice from all my friends who have successfully trained their boys.
Knock on wood and all that, but so far so good. Only one accident. And he loves sitting on the potty as it means things he doesn't usually get to have: soda, m&ms, books, running around naked, yeah, good times. The funny thing is watching Emma, my little mother hen, encourage him and run back and forth to the toilet with him. She is so funny. She even dropped her drawers and showed him how to do his biz. She will kill me if she ever finds out I typed that so let's move on.
This week was also a big deal for Jack because he got stitches. After church on Sunday, he was climbing the brick steps to our door when he tripped and smacked his forehead on the edge of the bricks. I wasn't even there, I was in Sarasota, so poor Gary took him to the walk-in clinic himself for stitches. It was traumatizing as it always is, wrapping him in a "burrito" and having your child scream in terror. But the great t hing is how resilient they are; as soon as he was finished he was happy and smiling and ready for promised ice cream.
Yesterday morning he sneezed and said, "Oh! Mommy! All my 'bless you's' came out of my nose."
"What???" I asked him. "My 'bless yous' came out of my nose!" It was pretty funny.
I am a little proud of myself as well for standing up for myself to someone. I am usually passive and non-confrontive because I want everyone to be happy, but this time I snapped and let this person have it. In a grown-up way, I might add, but I am very proud of myself.
Well, off to run Jack to the potty!!!