Shhh. I Don't Want to Jinx It.

I'm a little afraid to say this out loud, just in case my choice to verbalize it will take away the possibility of it happening again.


But here it is... lean in close, and I'll whisper it to you:

Tucker pooped on the potty last night.

There was great fanfare in the moment. I assure you. We danced all around the house. It happened an hour after bedtime, when he was all alone, with no audience or pressure. (I should make note of this preference of his. After all, he learned to speak in a similar fashion. Just when I thought he would never really talk to me, he counted to ten one glorious morning over breakfast. Without prompting. He likes to keep the practicing to himself, and then he shows us when he's good and ready.)

He just snuck into the bathroom and proudly announced when he was finished. Sure enough - he did it! We danced, we cheered, we grabbed the phone and sent a video to Daddy, who happens to be in California during this momentous event.

Tucker chose his very first gift from the basket of potty presents. He chose this darling little something, a cheapie-cheap from checkout stand at the Dollar Store.

He named it William, after a little boy we met at the park this week. Tucker calls it Wee-yeem. William and Tucker have been inseparable today, and William has been riding around in Tucker's palm ever since the moment the two were introduced.

We nearly needed to set a place at the breakfast table for William. Tuck is pretty thrilled with his new companion, especially since I have confirmed that it is ONLY his, not Tyler's.

This face says, "Look at this beauty. It's mine. All mine. I love to look at it, play with it, and put it on my cup while I eat my Rice Krispies."

(I'm not sure what I was thinking, believing he may not discover that it's actually a pen. I thought he would just be contentedly mesmerized by the koosh-like hair, and he would never really want to push on the clicky end to see what it does, let alone discover that a ballpoint pen pops out. My coffee table has new scars to prove that discovery.)

As Tucker raved over William and gave him the tour of the house, I reminded him that there is a whole big basket of toys for him, and he can have a new one every single time he poops on the potty. (At least for the first ten successes. Then we'll get a new plan.)

Here's what he said: "I no want a new toy. I yike dis one."

"Right. But you can keep that one, AND you can have another one. All you have to do is poop on the potty, and the presents are yours."

"No fank you. Poop in pants instead."

Sure enough. Back to the old routine today. The pediatrician says keep it fun, keep it light, no pressure, no punishment for regressing, just great shouts for joy and prizes and presents and candy for success.

Right.

That's why I wanted to whisper it. I'm trying to make light of the victory... since it's beginning to feel like it wasn't really one after all.