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Browsing Tag: potty-training

Luck of the Irish, My You-Know-What

Yesterday, Cian said, “I have to go baf-room,” and before I had a chance to get over my shock (pride!), he came back out with a look of sheer guilt on his face. “Mom. Can you clean my poop?” His pants were still on. So, clean up we did. Major, major clean up. I should skip over the part where he struggled with me as I took off his pants, which made little chunks of poo rain around us onto the carpet like chocolate-covered balls of stink-infested hail, so I won’t share that. But I will tell you that as I got him dressed again, he looked at the floor in horror and pointed. “Mom! Dere’s more poop!” “No, there’s not, Cian,” I told him, and continued to tug at his pants. “No. MOM. Right dere. Dere’s POOP.” And lo and behold, he’d discovered a little chunk that had gotten smooshed in between my pant leg and the carpet. So, yay. Good day. Today, I overslept by, oh, 45 minutes, and had to rush the girls through…

Thanks for That, Buddy

Last week, I asked Cian before lunch if he had to use the bathroom. “No,” he said. And since he was wearing pull-ups, and since I’ve lost my go-get-’em-let’s-wear-underpants motivation of potty training, I let it slide. “Are you sure?” I just said. He nodded, and I let it go. I know, lazy. But potty training breaks me down, man. It breaks me down. After lunch, I asked Cian to use the bathroom. He walked in himself this time while I cleared the table, and two seconds later I heard, “Oh, Mom! It’s on the stoooool!” I found him with one leg up in the air, avoiding the wet spot on the seat. His private parts were nowhere near where they were supposed to be, and he’d overshot and made it only halfway into the kid potty’s bowl. The other half had landed–Hallelujah! Praise for small miracles!–in his training pants. Other than that–and this is the absolute, best, it’s-so-worth-it part–he’d been completely…

And Then There Was That Time I Wrote About Poop

It’s Day 1 of potty training, 8:30 a.m.: “Ci,” I say. (It sounds like “Key,” but I never know how to write it: Key? Kee? “Hey kid?”) “Do you want to go pee on the potty?” “No.” “I know, but we’re going.”  (Cian sits on the potty. I sit on the floor. Precious minutes of our lives tick by.) “It’s naht woe-king.”  Day 1, 9:30 a.m. “Hey, Ci,” I say. “Do you need to go pee on the potty?”  “No.” “I know, but we’re going.” (Cian sits on the potty. I sit on the floor. I wonder what the rest of the world is doing right now.) “Mom. It’s naht woe-king.” Day 1, 10:30 a.m.: “Cian,” I say. “Do you need to go pee on the potty?” “No.” “I know, but we’re going.” (Cian sits on the potty. I sit on the floor after throwing out the soaked…