gross story #1: think daddy day care and DON'T READ if you are 1) not a mom or 2) have a weak stomach

(Note: No pictures in this one - you'll see why!)

Agustin has been potty trained since he was three years old, almost to the day. This greatly stressed me at first, since he was my first kid, and I imagined he would be in diapers as he walked down the aisle. It seemed like he'd never even have the desire to be potty trained. But, lo and behold, time works it's magic (as always) and one day, not long after his third birthday, he just decided it was time. No one told him, it was his decision, and from that day forward he stopped wearing diapers and not once EVER had an accident. Very cool. But he still needs help wiping after number 2, and has never said anything about wanting to be big enough to do it himself.

Until the other day.

He was in the bathroom, and calls me. "Mommy, I'm done doing poopies!"

So I go in, expecting to go through our little routine of cleaning him up and washing hands and all.
(Here's where the daddy day care part comes in. you know that scene, right?)

It was all over. Legs, feet, socks, toilet seat, hands, shirt, floor. Chunky and creamy (sorry for the image!) Since having kids, very little can really gross me out. Projectile vomit, dirt, garbage, sour milk, moldy food under the couch. But this was really gross. It took me days to get over it.
Turns out he had decided he is old enough to wipe himself. But he couldn't reach the toilet paper? Didn't know how much to use? Thought hands would be quicker? I don't know what he was thinking, and may never know, but we had a little talk and decided that he could learn to clean himself off, but with the help of mommy and daddy, who would teach him.

Andres took pity on my ordeal and the next day went in when Agustin called that he was finished.

Suddenly I hear a low scream coming from the direction of the bathroom.

Yes, again. Only this time he DID use toilet paper, but for some reason didn't put it in the toilet, just threw it on the floor. Lots of it.

So, something we are working on.

Yet another of the neverending stories of parenthood.

Isn't it great? Yes, it really, truly is.

Can it be true?

I think we've done it - I think we conquered potty training. I can't claim victory yet - at night we are still in diapers. But during the day, we are accident free. I am soooooo psyched. I feel like this is bigger for me than it is for that cute little three-year-old. And it happened just like the books say. When he was ready. He was ready, and ta-da. There has been no going back.

Going now to do a little happy-dance.

Learning to Manipulate...

Two-year-olds can be so much fun. Not only do they write on walls, pee on carpet, and bring rocks and dirt into the house by the truckloads, but they also begin to learn the fine art of manipulation.

I was downstairs doing the dishes yesterday morning when suddenly I heard screaming coming from the TV room two floors up.

"Agustin! Are you OK?" (You should have seen how fast I ran up those stairs. Who says I'm not in shape?)

"Mom! I wanna pee in the potty chair. MOM! I WANNA PEE IN THE POTTY CHAIR!" Then a realization - yes, of course, he's wearing his big boy pants and he WANTS TO PEE IN THE POTTY CHAIR! Run faster. Almost trip. Keep going. Reach the top.

"Tin! What did you say?"

Staring at the ceiling, playing dumb. "What?"

"What did you say? You want to go potty in the potty chair? Let's go!" (I'm real excited by now. See? I'm thinking. No need to train him. He's figuring it out on his own!)

Blank stare. I ask again, "What did you say?"

Innocent voice (a bit meek): "Come play with me in the tent!"

*****

And that's not all. That very same morning we were downstairs having breakfast. Tin finished and wanted to go upstairs. I looked at his little brother (6-months-old) and asked, "OK, Kas, your brother wants to go upstairs. What do you say? Do we go upstairs?"

Suddenly a small voice, three octaves higher, exclaims from the stairwell. "Yes, mommy, I wanna go upstairs, please." Tin, doing a great Kas impression.

You gotta love it. He's growing up. And, yes, mother, I DO realize that all this will not seem so cute thirteen years from now. But in the meantime, I am so enjoying watching him become his own little person...