The Potty Chronicles

We've hit a new level of desperation. Making our son clean out his own underwear when he does a #2. If you don't like hearing about poop, I suggest you quit reading now. That's right. If he poops in his underwear, he's the one who has to dump it into the toilet. The logic behind this is grossing him out to the point where he gives in. Best idea? Probably not. Best at the moment? Yes. Which is all any of us can do. I tell you, you reach a point where you reach for anything that might help. The point where potty charts and rewards and new cool underwear do nothing to help the situation. We are almost completely out of diapers, and have been counting down. Matthew knows when we're out of diapers, we're out. I'll put him in pull-ups for sleeping, but we are switching to mostly underwear, and no more diapers. (check back in another couple chronicles, and we'll see if we've changed our tune by then)



I should point out he does pretty well keeping dry, but you have to really keep track of when he last peed and make him go again about every hour, before and after any meals, and before leaving for or from anywhere.



I do see a light at the end of the tunnel. Clouds keep moving over it, and then dissipating, then moving back in. I sure hope the cleaning-his-own-underwear approach doesn't backfire.... no pun intended....



On a happier subject, we made it a whole work week with no tantrums in the morning, and Matthew was given the glorious prize of a mini Tonka cement truck, to which he said "cooooollll," and "I LIKE my cement truck" in all seriousness. I wish I could write it the way I heard it. He's so serious and so emphatic on the I-Like when he tells me he likes something. It cracks me up every time.