As I briefly mentioned in the previous post, Trot's decided he doesn't want to wear a diaper anymore.
Which is fine by me; I could use the extra $3,000 dollars a month I'll save not buying something he's gonna pee/poop in 30 minutes later, cause me to wash my hands for 5 minutes under water that would blister a normal person, then throw in the trash can only to repeat the whole thing over an hour later. The guy who invented the disposable diaper is in a weird spot; half of me wants to throttle him for making me spend so much money over the past 9 years, while the other half wants to build a bronze statue of him in my front yard because if I'd had to wash the cloth ones? I'm pretty sure I'd be in a sanitarium right now, begging someone to let me stay forever.
Or at least until he was potty trained.
Problem #1 is, he's got an Adam & Eve complex. He just wants to let it all hang out and run around naked; now I may be a lot of things, but I'm not letting my boy run around in his birthday suit just because he can. So we make him wear big boy underwear.
Problem #2? He has no concept what he's wearing NOW is any different than the diaper. Ang had to clean the living room carpet FIVE times today, plus machine wash a pair of Crocs. Let's just say I'm glad I was at work and leave it at that. Mind you, the half-bath is FIVE FEET AWAY from where he did the deed and we have pounded into his head the concept of peeing/toilet/flush.
Problem #3 is you have to physically take him to the bathroom every 5 minutes, set him on the toilet, and wait until he decides he's ready to go, which just kills your romantic time with your other half. Shocker, I know. I came up with the following solution; tie him to the deck outside and let him pee wherever and whenever he wants.
Ang had to ruin it by spouting off something about the police, child protective services, and social workers coming around at all hours. Which brings us to tonight, around 7:30.
I'd just gotten home from work and was asking everyone about their day after forcing all of them, except Ang, to put down the PS2 remote, the toy, and the phone to give Dad a hug and a kiss. I lowered myself into the easy chair, sat down, and immediately realized I'd sat in a puddle of apple juice.
At least that's what I keep telling myself it was.
I hate off days.
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