Potty Faux Pas

At 2:00 this morning, Will showed up in my room looking for a snuggle. I was exhausted and would have been willing to overlook the “Everyone Sleeps in Their Own Bed” rule, only he proceeded to shove me off my pillow and toward the edge of the bed.

“O.k. buddy-roe, time to go back to your bed,” I announced.

“No!” he wailed.

“Yup. Do you need to go potty first.”

“Uh-huh,” he whined, pouring on the pitiful in hopes I would change my mind.

We walked to the hall bathroom.

“Do you need to go tee tee or poo poo?”

“Tee Tee.”

I took off the Diego potty seat, raised the lid and pointed him in roughly the right direction. Will’s aim is pretty good, so most of it wound up on target.

“I go poo poo now.”

I heaved a heavy sigh. It went unnoticed. Off came the pants and pull-up. Down went the seat. On went the Diego potty, and up went Will. After a theatric series of grunts and gargoyle faces, he owned that maybe he didn’t have to go poo poo after all. I quickly deposited him back in his bed with Baby and Black Kitty and made my way back to my bed. If I was lucky, it might still be a little warm.

As I passed the hall bathroom, I thought it would be a good idea to go back to bed with an empty bladder and made a quick detour. This is where it became clear I’m potty training three little boys. Off came the Diego seat. Up went the toilet seat. I then proceeded to sit down on the open bowl and do the patented female-arm-flapping-leg-waving flight pattern designed to make us airborne just long enough to avoid icy toilet water. Thankfully, I was successful, and I made a mental note that while I’ve given up a lot of the womanly arts (full make-up, high heels, daily baths), keeping the toilet seat down is non-negotiable.

Incidentally, I had to put Will back to bed yet again an hour later, but somehow he was snoring beside me when I woke up this morning. It’s times like these I wonder why I bother making rules anyway.