Jackson has a rash. The “Kill Two Birds” solution decided by Nicole and reluctantly agreed to by yours truly is to keep him naked, all day. The potty is in the living room, and Mr. Bare-Ass is thrilled to be running around in the buff. I, on the other hand, am paranoid as hell that I am going to be cleaning up baby poo off the floor before the end of the morning.
I know that potty training is important, but for selfish reasons, I wish he would just stay in diapers. I don’t mind changing diapers. When we were in the birthing class, the instructor said “when you get home from the hospital, Dad should do all the diaper changing because over the long-term, Mom is going to be changing the most diapers.” Well, not in this family, and that’s fine. I really don’t mind it, and I think that any man (or woman) who makes a big deal out of this simple task is a whiner.
As I start this third paragraph, I have asked Jack if he needs to poop 17 times. His answer remains a definitive, “Nope!” I know he’s going to shit on the couch. I just know it. It’s like when the dog pisses on my bed instead of the easy-to-clean linoleum hall floor. At age two, he doesn’t know to defecate in the potty, but he knows spite. Maybe I’m imagining it, and maybe potty training makes parents a little more nuts than regular child rearing. We’ll see. This is certainly going to be a work in progress, and I will keep you posted on our success and failure.
(After being questioned 23 times, he still says “Nope!”)
No comments:
Post a Comment