Friday, July 24, 2009

P is the Word

Potty-training is almost done in this house. Maddox is
accident free during the day and his pull-ups are pretty
much dry when he wakes in the morning. But there has been
a few nightime accidents here and there. Maddox has got
it in his head that you must take off your underwear and
pants to pee, which is correct. Except when you are in bed
and wearing pull-ups. At this point I would hope that he
would just pee in the pull-ups and we'd change him in the
morning. But no, Maddox likes to disrobe to pee.

Numerous times we have found him naked from the waist down
in bed. Pull-up and pajama bottoms tossed across the room
in various states of disarray. A few times there had
been crying included in this scenario and wet sheets.

The topper of this current situation came the other night.
Sacha was ensconced in "Call of Duty 4" and I in my "watch
instantly" on Netflix episodes of "The L Word". There's
something about that show. A world that I know pretty
much nothing about, but find fascinating. Are Lesbians
in LA this hot? Do they all have powerful jobs, beautiful
homes and incredible bodies? I'm fascinated. And in
love with Shane.

Back to the pee story. So, I had my headphones on
watching lesbians make-out and Sacha was killing some
soldiers. Sacha drops what he's doing and runs to Maddox's
room. I realize there is crying coming from his room. I
stay seated since usually this is just a case of putting him
back down and closing the door. But then I hear "Kerry,
I'm going to need your help!"

I walk in to find Maddox holding poop in his hands and
crying hysterically. Pull-ups on the floor, pajama
bottoms across the room. Big wet spot and smeared doodoo on
the mattress. Sacha takes Maddox to the bathroom to clean
him up and I collect the mess for a spin in the washer.

My son was holding his poop. And upset by it, which he
should have been. A few moments later he was laughing and
all was right again. But the image of Maddox holding his
poop in his hands will be with me for a while. At least he didn't
smear it all over the place, which I've heard happens.

Now the decision comes, do we move him to a real bed from
his crib, so he can walk to the bathroom? Do we want him
roaming around in the middle of the night, drinking milk from the carton,
secretly watching Thomas the Train for the 100th time?
I don't think I'm ready for that. I think I'd rather wash the sheets

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