I've got to admit that in the past, whenever Trot would come running into the room naked as a jaybird and hollering "poop!" at the top of his lungs? Well, let's just say it never ended well.
So today, as I ate my roast beef sandwich and attempted to read the sports page while he came streaking through the kitchen I had no reason to think this wouldn't end the same as every other time. Ang shouting at the top of her lungs for me to get the 409, Trot running to my bedroom to hide, Rakes laughing his head off, and me trying to keep from throwing up or passing out. Whichever came first.
Turns out he HADN'T gone yet; he was just letting us know it was coming. Much like Jackie Chan scaling a wall or Keanu Reeves in "The Matrix" I can't exactly explain how Ang somehow got the door open, him picked up, and on the toilet. Yet she did.
Meanwhile, I'm standing outside the door doing my best Knute Rockne imitation (you know, if Knute would have been trying to get a 2 year old with a stubborn streak a mile wide and the ability to walk around with crap in his pants without so much as a grimace to use a toilet) and Ang is yelling "You get to pick out a prize" while Rakes runs back and forth from his cheese to the door like Speedy Gonzalez in the Looney Tunes.
It is with great pride I can now report my youngest son actually crapped in the toilet and we have officially moved up one level from a gorilla. It's just one instance so I'm not getting my hopes up yet. Something tells me I'll need a Valium or twelve by the time the week is out. But after 10 years, 3 kids, and enough money spent on Pampers that I'm fairly certain I've enabled 7 executives to retire?
I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. And I'm pretty certain it's not anther train. Maybe now instead of buying diapers we can actually go out to eat.
At somewhere other than McDonalds.
About an hour ago I wandered into the playroom and found the following; part of me grinned from ear to ear at the absolute innocence of it all and the other part wanted to yell "Why can't you sleep like that at 6:30 on Sunday morning instead of clomping down the stairs like a Clydesdale demanding Orange Juice and cheese?" Yes, cheese. Don't ask.
At least he's got his priorities straight; Nintendo DS, PS2 remote, his bag with his other games, and a tub of Funguns.
Take me out to the ball game, take me out with the crowd........
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