Posts Tagged ‘
potty training ’
Tuesday, December 3rd, 2013
So, seriously… this is a pretty big deal in my book. And by “my book,” I’m evidently referring to this ongoing collection of the 846 letters and stories (so far) I’ve already written about you or to you in regards to being your dad, called The Dadabase.
For the first time ever, over Thanksgiving weekend, you traveled in a car to a restaurant not wearing a diaper and didn’t have an accident. That’s awesome!
After Mommy cooked our fancy vegan Thanksgiving feast (and I did the dishes), we were ready for a meal without work required. So Nonna and Papa (my parents) took us out to our to our favorite restaurant, The Wild Cow Vegetarian Restaurant.
While I am sincere in saying that it’s our family’s favorite restaurant, it’s also the only restaurant in Nashville that we ever eat at… unless Whole Foods counts.
I’ve admitted before that you could have probably already been officially potty-trained a few months ago if Mommy and I only had the time to focus on it with you.
But since we don’t, whenever Nonna and Papa drive up from Alabama, they work on that with you.
In the midst of all the Thanksgiving activities, I didn’t realize you were exclusively wearing your new set of Disney “big boy underwear” the whole time.
I remember halfway to the restaurant, driving us in the Rav4 that I was reviewing, thinking, “Oh… Jack’s not wearing a diaper! This could be bad… What happens if he can’t hold it until we get there?”
Not only did you not have an accident, but you went potty, twice, in the Wild Cow Vegetarian Restaurant while we dined on our divine meals.
Mommy and I were so proud of you, we decided it was only appropriate to let you have a special dessert treat: A vegan chocolate cupcake, shipped in from Nashville’s vegan bakery, Khan’s Desserts.
It apparently was so good, you went cuckoo there for a minute…
I have a feeling now that you’ve succesfully been in the car for more than 20 minutes one way in the Rav4, and then back, plus making it through our entire meal without having an accident…
But instead, going potty in the bathroom there, I think Mommy and I are at a good place, concerning your journey of potty training.
It’s not something I’ve let bother me. Maybe I should.
Nor is it something I compare myself to other parents about. Maybe I should.
Really though, I don’t think I have to worry about you. You are so seriously motivated by getting to wear your “big boy underwear” and not getting them dirty, the motivation is there for you already.
All I really have to do is facilitate the situation.
I wasn’t expecting this part to be this easy.
And by the way…
You lasted about 5 minutes in the car ride back home before you crashed on Papa’s arm, for Napsville.
Yeah, you were no match for that well-earned vegan chocolate cupcake.
Disclaimer: The vehicle mentioned in this story was provided at the expense of Toyota, for the purpose of reviewing.
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Sunday, November 3rd, 2013
2 year, 11 months.
Yesterday afternoon as Mommy was upstairs working on laundry and as we were watching Disney’s Spooky Buddies, you announced to me:
“I go potty!”
That was my cue to jump up and chase you to the bathroom door, open it for you, and turn on the light.
From there, you did your business.
I always stand right outside the door, with it cracked, as to still give you some privacy but to also assess the situation.
This particular time, I was only half-way paying attention, I admit. I suppose I was slightly distracted about the thought of the “ghost puppy” in the movie we were in the middle of.
You so easily understood and didn’t question a “ghost puppy” that flew around like Casper. I did.
So for what happened next, I had to ask myself if I really had just seen what I thought I did:
After “going number one,” you lifted up the potty tray from your Elmo potty and held it in one hand, and with the other you lifted up the real potty lid and dumped your Elmo potty contents into it.
Then, you sat the Elmo potty tray back into the Elmo potty and flushed the real potty before running back into the living room to finish our movie.
I was stunned.
It’s a big enough deal to go potty, but to take care of all those other steps too… wow. I was probably most impressed by the fact you didn’t spill the Elmo potty tray.
On top of all that, it was probably the 5th successful time yesterday that you “went potty in the potty.” In fact, you had no accidents all day yesterday, even when we went out in public for a couple of hours.
Of course it all goes back to last weekend when your Nonna and Papa (my parents) were here.
After we all went out for some fun at the pumpkin patch, that evening Mommy and I went out on a date night (at a New Mexican restaurant and Old Navy). And Nonna and Papa helped out Mommy and I tremendously by using that time to proactively potty train you…
What was effective was having you only wear your “big boy/Thomas the Train” underwear. It worked. You did not want to get Thomas dirty.
I had heard that when it comes to potty training a boy, it’s harder than potty training a girl.
But, that it really just comes down to two things: that the boy is about three years old, and that the boy is not wearing diapers while potty training.
It’s working. I am so proud of you.
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Monday, September 2nd, 2013
2 years, 9 months.
These “before and after” pictures actually pretty well illustrate the cure for Mommy and I not being able to get home improvement projects finished, in the little amount of time we have together as a family.
By the way, it’s completely unintentional that this letter to you has by default become the 3rd consecutive one to talk about my parents, who you know as Nonna and Papa. (And there might even be a 4th after this.)
But just as our 2 and a half hour trips to their house serve as a sort of “time out” for us, it’s their trips to our house that serve as the perfect time for Mommy and I to complete “major” projects; just the opposite. Instead of relaxing while they are here in town… we are productive!
Exactly 3 months ago, it was a backsplash.
As for Labor Day weekend, we painted our living room and installed brand new curtains; taking down the blinds. And because we made such good time, we decided to paint the downstairs bathroom, too.
During all the labor, there was always one adult to entertain and play with you, while the other three worked on the project.
In case you’re wondering why I’m not featuring any pictures of our home’s new makeover, it’s because I know in the upcoming months, the pictures I daily take of you playing downstairs will be featuring the changes.
There will be more than enough… too many, probably…
So instead, I wanted to point out a notable milestone in your life. As a reward for completing our projects early, we decided to do something we never do as a family.
We went to “the city” and dined out.
It’s funny how the last time I remember being in the heart of Nashville, not just on the outskirts of the city limits where we live, was at last June when we went to that random drum circle.
Our family never goes to the city and we never go out to eat.
But this weekend, we did. And it went well!
I was telling Mommy, how a year ago, if we were to have done this, we wouldn’t have made it through the entire meal without me having to escort you outside and distract you from being restless.
However, at 2 years and 9 months, you are able to handle dining out.
Hashtag, “I didn’t see that one coming.”
Admittedly, the fact that Mommy and I let you have a vegan chocolate cupcake certainly helped the situation.
Seriously, this is epic for me, as your Daddy.
I feel so accomplished after this Labor Day weekend!
We painted the living room and the bathroom, put up a new curtain rod and curtains, and you proved you can handle going to the city and dining at a restaurant… way past your bedtime.
The plan was to officially potty train you this weekend, too. Oh well…
With the grandparents in town, we were able to be very productive in other ways.
Actually though, I think we might need a completely separate trip where they come up and the only project is just to potty train you. Not a bad idea.
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Monday, June 24th, 2013
2 years, 7 months.
You have discovered the magic words:
“I love you.”
That even includes the times you say it when you’re simply trying to use it to your advantage.
Every night as I’m downstairs doing the dishes, Mommy will let you prop yourself up on the balcony of the staircase and yell to me, “Hey Daddy, I potty! I get an M&M!”
For some reason when you get tired and giddy at the same time, you gain this Austrian accent.
So it’s more like, “Hey Dah-dee, I pah-dee…”
A little bit later, after I’ve sang you three random songs, one of which is usually the theme song to The Lorax movie, I say goodnight and leave the room.
You wait until about 10 seconds after I’ve shut the door.
“Hey Dah-dee, I laaaahv yew!”
Even though it’s spoken in your unnecessary and cartoonish Arnold Schwarzenegger accent, I can’t resist.
I immediately open the door, kiss you, and tell you I love you too.
Knowing your plan to delay bedtime actually worked, you tell me even louder that you love me, even though you’re laughing and just trying to be funny at that point.
It’s funny how even though I clearly know it’s a ploy, I go along with it anyway.
Are you beginning to understand what the word “love” really means? It’s not something I can simply describe to a 2 and a half year-old in words.
Mommy and I can show you everyday, knowing that eventually you’ll connect the word to the action. But as far as the word really making sense to you 100%, I don’t think you’re there yet.
That doesn’t matter to me. Even if you’re simply processing what it means to love me, and what it means that I love you…
Well, that’s close enough for me. I’ll take it.
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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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