Last Thursday, Buzz refused to wear his pants. The boy obviously doesn’t hold any body issues, because I don’t think I’ve seen him happier than when he’s streaking through the house loudly flaunting from every angle “MY BUTT!”.
The boy really likes his butt. And my butt. And your butt.
I put his pants back on over and over again. Probably at least 15 times. It was so often that I found myself contemplating a belt of duct tape, if we had any on hand. Then, I decided to cease fighting it. Maybe I can work this to my advantage, I thought. I pulled out a pair of Spiderman underwear and we headed to the bathroom. Let the potty training begin! Again!
Yes, Buzz is 3 and a half and still in diapers. In my defense, potty training is a pain in MY BUTT! (as Buzz would say). Don’t look at me like that, we’ll get there eventually. Preferably before he enters high school.
We spent more than an hour camped in the bathroom. It seemed as if he knew what he should be doing. He sat on the toilet. He grunted a few times, but nothing happened. He tore a tiny sliver of toilet paper and pretended to wipe. Mostly, he laughed and played behind our shower curtain. Or tried to give himself a swirly.
After spending all that time in the bathroom, he ran out and promptly urinated a puddle on the bedroom carpet.
I wish I could hire a Potty Trainer. Maybe Potty Training Boot Camp (I can just imagine a big, burly soldier screaming in the face of a small child “YOU WILL PEE IN THE POTTY, BOY, AND YOU WILL LIKE IT”). Because this? Kinda sucks. I know I’ve been through it once before with Jedi, but that doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing. Here’s to still remaining hopeful that he’s out of diapers by high school.