Monday, October 22nd, 2012
*Warning: Contains oversharenting.
This morning on the car ride to daycare, Jack had a big sneeze: “Dada? Nose.”
Unfortunately, I didn’t have any Kleenex in the car or even a blanket for him to wipe his nose off with. About 12 minutes later, we had arrived at KinderCare.
We got there earlier than normal, so I was able to sneak him in the front nursery room where no one else was yet and take my time carefully cleaning his face.
I was concentrating so hard to get Jack clean, when all of the sudden, I… well, it just came out of nowhere!
“Dada did it!” Jack loudly proclaimed with a straight face.
Fortunately no one else was around to hear it; but if they were, Jack wanted to make it clear that “Dada did it!” and not Jack.
I’m just glad that embarrassing story gets to stay between father and son. It’ll be our little secret.
Gone are the days when Jack was unaware of anything bathroom-related. Now, he feels it’s his job, in the likeness of a herald, to announce to the general public what should be private.
Let’s just say that if you come to our house and go upstairs to use the restroom, Jack will announce to everyone in the living room:
“[Insert your name here] potty.”
He hears the subtle flush and knows that’s his cue. Same thing with showers.
So if you use the potty, shower, or accidentally pass gas, Jack will announce it for everyone to hear. He’s on Potty Patrol!
For the past several weeks now, he has been practicing using his toddler potty before bath time. He’s actually only gone twice out of dozens of attempts, but it’s not for a lack of trying.
As I sit in front of him, watching my naked son try to make some magic happen on the potty, I think, “He should be weirded out by me being right here.”
Instead, he appreciates the moral support.
But what’s funny is he always pulls up the bathroom rug to cover his feet while he tries. I don’t think his feet are cold, the bathroom rug just serves as a sort of good luck charm.
Last night, he was doing his normal potty ritual while my wife and I watched and rooted him on.
Without any prompting, he covered his nipples with his fingers, waddled his arms like he had chicken wings, and made a weird barking sound.
My wife immediately asked him, “What are you doing, Jack?”
His eagerly replied with a scrunched up nose and a tone of celebration in his voice:
That was by far the most absurd and most hilarious thing I’ve ever seen or heard my son do. Ever.
I’ll never know how an unsolicited impression of a barking, wing-flapping, nipple-censored snake shows up in the midst of watching your parents watch you try to use the potty; which for the record, remained empty after the snake impression.
I would say what happens in the bathroom, stays in the bathroom.
But then again, I’ve got a toddler who is on Potty Patrol.
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