ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes continued

August 16, 2011

Three words for you: Big. Boy. Bed.

converted bed


I wasn't kidding about the changes yo. The hits keep coming like poodles in a firestorm with a sock full of toonies.

The baby-cage is no more. In its place a new... well, ok, the exact same bed with one side removed. But a cage with three sides no longer has the power to contain the madness unless the madness is willing to be contained.

Which, so far don'tsayitoutloud, it is.

Turns out the madness likes his new escape-able bed. "I a bigguhs boy."

We really should stop talking about it because so far it has been a total non-event and I don't want to internet-jinx it. So. Zip the lips cross your heart, all is well.

Now, four less cuddly words for you: Poop. In. The. Potty.

{No related photos found*. You're welcome.}
(*Except this one.)

This miracle of all little boy miracles happened over the weekend, the much grosser parenting version of a white unicorn. The Jude and I were reading on the couch and he suddenly exclaimed, "Potty! Potty!" and like a dutiful mother I ran and fetched our ikea potty and stripped him down. If he asks I'm not going to say no. Are you crazy?
You want to give the potty a whirl, kid? Go for it.

And then magic happened. Enough said.

I'm considering this the practice/learning phase before we go balls to the wall and pants to the floor. We're all figuring out how this potty thing works. I think it's important for us to make the whole ordeal as unremarkable as possible. Pee? Great! No pee? Fine! It's the same attitude I've taken towards the eternal demon of toddler vs food– stressing about it will only make it a million times more complicated, so... I don't. It'll happen, in time, whether I make it a big deal about it or not.

For the most part all of these recent transitions have been totally spontaneous. No planning, no fanfare. Smooth as buttah. Lest you think we're just too lucky with our awesomely adaptable super-talking almost-two I can assure you that I pay for these wonderful qualities with much irate throwing flopping and kicking, because nobody almost-two is that perfect.

handsome boy modeling club

Handsome like a pretty boy modeling school, cunning like a fox in the medical academy, armed with aim like a sharpshooter and a temper like Yul Brynner, but boy does he know how to work a room with his pants unbuttoned. Life skills, we haz them.
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