Dude. Is. Potty-trained!
I feel sheepish for thinking he wasn’t ready. Literally all it took was buying him some big-boy undies and telling him, “Don’t go pee-pee on Spiderman, or your pants will be wet.” Um, okay. He’s all, “Sure, Mom. No prob.” That was Saturday morning. Kid has not had one accident since then. And he’s been to the gym daycare. And on a long drive to the airport and back (with DC traffic… two hours in the car, mind you). And running errands. And to school today. NO ACCIDENTS! And I swear I’m still watering him. At 26 months, he still needs some help pulling pants and underwear down and up, but he just saunters up to me or Andrew or his teacher or whoever apparently, and says, “I need to go pee-pee.” Or, you know. The other thing.
So it’s been four days and I can’t believe how easy he made it for us. Of course, this has been a long journey. Milo has been familiar with the potty thing since he was 18 months old and didn’t know how to resist anything. I honestly think it helped introducing it so early, because he NEVER fought us on it. We didn’t push, and he didn’t resist. And now such a big weight is lifted off of my shoulders!And no more buying loads and loads of diapers. Cha-ching times two.
Side note: the lovely bling Milo is rocking in the above picture was a crafty something he did today in school. He picked out the beads: one letter R (for “random” I think), one purple fish bead, and two blue “bagels.” I told him I liked his blue beads and he said, “No, Mom! They’re bagels!” Okay. Bagels. I like ‘em. Jeesh.
And now for the yummiest of yummies:
My sweet little Timmy-Tommy laughed out loud (HARD!) for the first time on Sunday night during bath time with Milo. Milo did something, poured water on his head or something of the sort, and Oliver was looking at him and just BUSTED a gut! It was so cute I almost cried. A little baby belly-chuckle. A NAKED baby belly-chuckle! Can you just taste the cuteness???? And Andrew was there to witness it too. Ah, a moment.
And for good measure, this:
is what happens when I leave my amazing potty-trained boy alone for ONE MINUTE to go change the laundry. Charming.
What’s that? You’re inviting us over for dinner? And you want Milo to come too?
And help organize your bookshelves?
And throw all of your nicely folded laundry on the floor?
And you want our sweet little rascal Proudie to poop on your pillow while we’re at it? Really. You’re too sweet.
No, Proudie did not poop on anyone’s pillow. I just thought it rounded things out a bit.