In case you're new to the blog, we are in the throes of potty training at my house. Not my favorite journey, and yet one that seems unavoidable. (I could so easily put him right back in diapers and wait for him to want to change the plan, but I'm fearful that he may never want to change the plan.)
There is just so very much to this process. So much to decide, so much to remember, so much to alter on a daily basis - for all of us. Or mostly just for me and Tucker.
There are the times when he forgets and goes without thinking.
There are the times when he just doesn't have to go yet, and I'm badgering him to produce water from a stone.
There are the times when I mistakenly give him the option to wait, since he's insistent he doesn't have to go yet... but the mere conversation makes him need to go moments later, but he's not near the potty since he said he wanted to wait. (Due to recurrences such as this, he has lost many of his decision making liberties in this process.)
There are the times when I mandate that it's time to sit on the potty and see what happens, and we wait and wait, and we blow bubbles and read books while we wait for the grand exit. And we finally decide there must be nothing coming, so we get up to wash our hands... only to have things come rushing out then and there.
It's different every single day, every single time, every single attempt; no two are the same.
But then there are the times when his pants are dry, his bladder is full, the stars are aligned, the timing is right, and we have done everything correctly. He sits in the right spot, and he goes right when and where I ask him to go. But his little parts are a little unmanageable, and everything in the entire bathroom is wet - including his eyelashes. He did everything right, but the equipment went in the wrong spot, and I still have a huge mess to clean up.
But hey, bring on the treats. Because he got it right. Sort of.
For crying out loud, I need an m&m, even if he doesn't.