This May or May Not Be Happening...

Scott and I were talking a few months ago about all the careers when Scott said to me, "I think the worst job for me would be... something where I have to deal with poop."

I know, in his mind, he was reminiscing about the night years ago when we were up at my parents' house when the world's most fearless plumber braved (bare-handed) the most disgusting plumbing emergency we've ever seen. Scott followed that man around, noting everything he touched with those hands, and did a thorough, thorough cleaning.

But I had to laugh when I heard him say this. I stared him down for about five seconds... it didn't take him long to realize the irony of what he just said. His worst job would be something dealing with poop. My job is all about it. I wonder where we'd be in the count if I ever kept track. I know that we had to pack about 80 diapers for our week-long trip to the beach last summer. I know most days I change 6 diapers by 9am. My kids do very well in the dirty diaper department. They keep me in business. 

Today we took steps (hopefully) toward that curve tapering off just a bit.

I am not harboring any kind of fantasy that Peter is going to be potty-trained with the snap of a finger. I am a firm believer in the concept that our kids will tell us what they need if we're listening. I've always been very in tune with my kids, especially Peter. He has been the one to guide when he's been ready to start solid food, change his napping schedule, move to a big boy bed, ride a bike, and ski (I might have been the brains behind that one... but he took to it happily!). So in December, Peter started showing interest in the little frog potty we had in his bathroom, and he was doing really great with it! I didn't do any research on the fool-proof method for potty training. Everyone swears by a different theory. We just went with what was happening. And he was interested, but I could tell he was still not quite ready. Then Christmas happened. Then we moved. A lot of adjustment. 

So today we were at Target, and I asked Peter if we should go get some big boy pants. He said yes and was so excited to pick some Lightning McQueen "home boy" pants. Why does he call them that? I love it. So we got his pants and a Lightning McQueen potty. I thought I'd have tonight to do some research, make a sticker chart, get some kind of an incentive system going... blah blah blah. But we walked through the door, and Peter told me he wanted to use his potty. Then he told me he wanted to wear big boy pants. Okay. 

We had a symbolic "giving of the diapers to baby Brooklyn," and now we're diaper-free (pull-ups at night). No accidents in four hours with three successful trips to the potty. 

Who knows. Tomorrow he might change his mind. He might have accidents galore. Or he might be ready. I guess we'll see! 

I was worried about Peter moving to a big boy bed right after his 2nd birthday. I had this big plan to make themed bedding and drum it up to be a really big deal with a new book about big boy beds and all kinds of hype. But when I finished building it, he saw it and wanted to sleep in it. I scrounged up some bedding, and he was good. That was the end of it. 

I'm really hoping potty training goes the same way. I doubt it will. But I hope!

Here's to one (extremely adorable) kid in diapers. And one (especially sweet) kid in undies. 

Please, oh please.