Son #2 is finally potty trained. He does not refuse to sit on the toilet. He does not soil his training pants with abandon. He does not rip off his soiled diaper and run through the house naked. I do not happen upon disgusting accidents in unfortunate places. All is well in my world.
Now, I can take Son #2 anywhere and feel confident that my young son will stay dry. I've taken him to the grocery store, the park, and church in regular underwear. I feel like I've conquered the world. Of course, I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my husband. He is my partner in the madness that is potty training.
The other day, we had Thanksgiving dinner at my sister's house. Son #2 wore a pull up to my sister's house but consistently used the guest restroom to relieve himself. He was so proud every time he used the restroom. Afterwards, my young son would shout out. "Oh wow! I did potty! Oh look! There's poo poo in the potty!" Whereupon, I would congratulate him enthusiastically.
Soon, dinner was served at the dining room table. We happily devoured our meals. Some went back for seconds and thirds. Then, we settled into the living room chairs to watch the Cowboys play the Raiders. Midway through the game, I got up to use the restroom. Son #2 toddled behind me and asked. "Where going?"
I knelt down and said. "I'm going to go potty. Go sit with your Tia (Aunt)."
Son #2 wandered back to the living room and immediately burst into tears. Tia pulled him into her lap and asked. "What's the matter?"
Son #2 wiped the tears on his cheek and responded. "Mommy gone."
Tia asked with a bit of concern. "Where did Mommy go?"
Son #2 paused for a moment and then answered. "Mommy go poo poo."
I wonder if my family will cheer for me when I'm finished on the potty.