Stick A Fork In Me

I’m 23 diapers away from a forkin the road.  When the last diaper is used, I can either (a) buy more diapers or (b) potty train Riley.

(Editor’s Note:  If your perfect toddler woke up one perfect morning and said, “Mommy, I want to wear big girl/big boy underwear and go potty like a big girl/big boy,” and that was the extent of your perfect potty training experience, you can skip this post.  Oh, and we can neverbe friends.)

Before making any decisions, I should consider the evidence and get input from the members of the household who will be directly affected by my choice.

Evidence

To Not Potty Train

• He’s not even three yet and boys are notoriously late.  (Dylan was almost three and a half when he finally surrendered.)
• Me: “Riley, do you want to wear big boy underwear and pee and poop in the potty and earn stickers and candy and toys?”  Riley: “No.  Can I have milk?”

To Potty Train:

• He’s almost three!
• He’s too big for public bathroom diaper changing stations, which, when necessary, means I have to change his diaper in my car, which, on occasion, results in a poopy smelling vehicle.
• A few days ago at home, he pooped in his diaper while standing in the bathroom next to the toilet.  Talk about a slap in the face!

Input (as imagined by the Runaway Mama):

To Not Potty Train

Riley: “Yay!  I get to poop in my “stinky poopy pants” diaper forever!  Can I have some milk?”

Dylan: Silence.  (He’s playing Lego Star Wars on theXbox.)

Daddy: “Makes no difference to me.  I don’t change a lot of diapers, especially the poopy ones, and besides, I’ll be at the conference in Las Vegas.”

Me: “At this rate, I’ll be changing diapers until I’m 40.  On the other hand, I won’t spend the weekend scrubbing pee and poop stains from the carpet, feeling guilty about utilizing enhanced interrogation techniques, and cleaning up accidents in parking lots, parks and Publix.”

Grandma Irene (who arrives on Wednesday for a 10 day visit): “Whatever you want to do.  I’m here to help.”

Harry: I just finished reading“The Art Of Racing In The Rain” (wonderful book!), so I imagine from his attentive stare that he says, “The car goes where the eyes go.”  (Either that or he’s hungry and wants a treat.)

To Potty Train

Riley: “Oooh, man!  Can I have some milk?”

Dylan: “Can I go to the toy store and get a toy, too, if Riley pees and poops in the potty?”

Daddy: “Makes no difference to me.  I’ll be in Vegas, suckers!”

Me: “Well, at least Grandma is here to help.”

Grandma Irene: Silence.  (She’s on the computer at jetblue.com researching change fees and flight times to get on an earlier flight home.)

Harry: “Can I go to doggie daycare?”

The truth is that whether I potty train him now or later, I’m not even close to being done with pee and poop.  If it’s not contained in his diaper, it will end up in other, less desirable places like on the couch, in the car, or on me.  I’m grateful I have 23 diapers to go before I reach the fork, but whether I choose route (a) or (b), my feeling will be the same – stick a fork in me, I’m done.