My son potty trained himself.
Seriously! It's like going potty was his calling.
His sister . . . notsomuch.
But that's another blog.
He has a stool and uses it to turn the light on and to get up on the potty and to wash his hands.
He CAN do it.
He's DONE it.
More than a few times.
So, why is it that he has to run into whichever room I'm in,
Stop whatever I'm doing and yell at the top of his lungs:
"MAMA MAMA I HAVE TO GO POTTY AND YOU HAVE TO HELP ME!!!"
Of course, I, in my calmest voice possible, reply:
"Baby, you're a big boy, you can do it yourself."
To which he shrieks (what is it with three year old boys and shrieking, anyway??)
"NO NO MAMA I NOT A BIG BOY BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO HELP ME BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW HOW TO GO POTTY!!"
You ever get one of those "Okay, now, REALLY??" moments?
Then, when I don't respond (because I'm a mean, mean Mama, like that) he proceeds to stomp and cry and dance around.
Which part of the potty process turned my sweet precious little boy into demon-child??
Inevitably, afraid that he will end up going to the bathroom anyway - all over himself - I guide him to the bathroom and show him where his stool is. "There ya' go, kiddo" I say and turn to walk away.
"NO NO MAMA BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO HELP ME!!"
I should probably mention here that his favorite word is "because" and he uses it all the time - out of context which makes it even cuter . . .
So what EXACTLY does he want me to do? He wants me to pull down his pants and pick him up and put him on the potty.
Yes. This is another "Okay, now, REALLY??" moments.
Again, I refuse, and again he starts throwing a fit that would rival John McEnroe on the tennis court after being called on a foul a few times.
So, I concede, doing his bidding as though I were his own personal servent.
He immediatly lets go of everything he'd been holding into his bladder.
A 30-40 second pee. Reminds me of that scene in "A League of Their Own".
Then he hops down off the potty, pulls his stuff up, turns to me, looks at me with adoring eyes and says,
"Mama, I love you. You're so soft."
Touche, my son. Touche.