Potty Training 101

If I know one thing about my son it's the fact that no matter what it is he's going to do it when it's HIS idea. (I have NO IDEA where he gets this from - remember he IS adopted! wink wink)

He didn't walk until he was 17.5 months old. We had been to specialists and orthopedics trying to figure out what was wrong with his feet. He could do it - he just wouldn't. Why? Because it wasn't his idea yet. Once he took off - he was OFF! Not walking. Running.

He was barely talking at 18 months old when the pediatrician expressed concern that he needed to show extreme progress by his 2 year appointment. I bought ABC's, videos, books, flash cards - you name it - and worked on speak 'n say games. And sure enough - right around 2 years old, he decided to not speak words but full blown sentences. Of course.

Without fail, he stayed true to himself in the process to move to a big boy bed. I tried at his 2nd birthday with a miserable attempt to force him into bed. Several more tries during the following months proved just as unsuccessful. Until at 2.5 he proudly announced one night, "I sleep in big boy bed." Uh...okay. And with that, he was in the big boy bed. He has never once gotten up on his own.

I know that potty training is not that he CAN'T do it, but purely that he WON'T. (My mother is reading this and laughing because she knows what goes around comes around.) Without doubt, it's a battle of wills. So I'm biding my time and trying to remain consistent...

Last week was the first week we saw progress - thanks to his wonderful babysitter - who kept him in big boy pants most of the week. She lives in a private wooded area where they play outside all day long. The other two boys are fully potty trained. I've learned that when you're outside playing and you're a boy you don't go inside for a potty break. You just pick the closest tree. Oh. Okay. Is that how that works?

Somehow my son - now determined NOT to go in the potty - will go outside. Folks, the front yard of Addie way has two small trees. Dare we call them twigs having only been planted a few years ago. So naturally it was already pushing the limits to let him run around in nothing but his Lightning McQueen big boy pants. I mean, hey, it was Independence Day and he was definitely boasting some independence. But I'm sure some of the neighbors would still choke at the thought of the inappropriateness of my parenting. The good (and bad) news is he didn't have an accident all day (until 7:30 p.m. but we don't need to discuss that mess). So apparently potty training is working...as long as there's grass around!

It wasn't that big of a deal until I looked over and saw my nude little boy with Lightning McQueen around his ankles while he sprung a leak in the front yard. Only then to hear the 8 year old girl across the street yell "He's peeing in the yard!" You've got 3 brothers, sweetie. You'll be okay.

We haven't gotten there yet and I know we won't as long as it's only my idea. As soon as HE decides (and once we can actually us the potty instead of the closest natural element) we'll be potty trained!

DEMOLITION!

...Tear the house down!

The tractor rolled in first thing this morning and it's parked right beside the structure once called home. They'll be there Monday to fire up the engine and start tearing down the house. They say by Tuesday evening there will be one giant empty lot. (It will take a day just to haul away the debris.)

Elijah (and the almost-3-year old next door, Jacob) got to be real boys playing in the dirt and inspecting the tractor. It wouldn't be a real "boy party" without dirt. You know, the red Virginia clay that just gets down under your finger nails?! It's the kind that's caked onto the inside of a giant tractor "claw" (yes, that is my technical term). The kind that a 3 year old boy found fully entertaining to scrape off in chunks with a shovel. Those hunks of dried clay found themselves hurled onto the brick of the "fire house" (affectionately named by E), splattering into pieces and flecks of dirty flying all over.

Unbeknownst to me, E also found a puddle where he decided to make his first mud pie. The aftermath was him holding up two mud-red hands and asking "Mommy, what happened?" I couldn't be mad. It was hilarious. His brown & teal shirt was now caked in red clay. Oh, my boy!

Somehow the amazing artistry of Brett Hastie captured the mischievous look that we've come to know and love from our active and wide open boy. You can see it in his eye - you can watch the wheels of his brain turning to decide "Am I going to make a good decision...OR..." This is the look right before he usually takes off running in the opposite direction, dies laughing with a deep-throated giggle, or tries to hurriedly explain his way out of the trouble he's just found himself in. There's so much going on in that little head. He's so active. So full of life. Always on the go. Extremely creative. And always entertaining!