I received a guitar from my husband 2-3 Christmases (is that how you write plural Christmas?) ago. I have not learned how to play. But if I did know how to play, I would write a song. A song about poop. A song about a boy and his mom and their struggle with poop. It would be set in a small bathroom in a quaint town in America. It would be a long, slow, painfully smelly song...but just when it's at it's bleakest...it will turn around and become a song of triumph! (ok have I carried this intro on long enough?) It's been two weeks since we started potty training, and I think I can officially claim success. Potty took three days for Luke to grasp, and has even had to go potty in a public bathroom already. Poop was a whole other ball of...poop. But, I can safely say he is now trained and life will be a bit different now. It isn't perfect of course...it's a work in progress. But he knows when he has to poop, and he can poop into the toilet. That's a good start.
Here are some pictures and videos from Luke's No-More-Diapers party. We did the same for Laurel when we potty trained, it's become sort of a family tradition. (does twice constitute a tradition?) Anyway, partygoers wear pull-ups on their heads...though the potty-boy chose big boy underpants to wear on his. The party wouldn't be complete without a diaper cake with frosting poop and potty. (homemade orange-cream cheese frosting no less) Fun was had by all, and it helped kicked off the training that followed.
6 hours ago