The poop chronicles

I haven't mentioned it on here before, but we've started potty training pretty intensively; at least, a lot more intensively than we have in the past, which admittedly wouldn't take much. I'm pretty sure I figured Wilder would eventually wander up to me before the age of 13 and let me know he was ready to use the toilet. I've severely underestimated his stubborn streak in the past, and this was no exception. I'm pretty sure at this point if I don't force the issue, he'd be wearing some bedazzled Depends to his prom.

So we've begun. And let me start by saying this: I don't believe in hell, but if there is one, my version of it would involve an eternity of teaching 3-year-old boys to conduct their business in the commode. I've been able to find a silver lining with most things parenting-related, no matter how unpleasant. For instance, when the children are projectile vomiting, sure ... I smell like death on earth and spend a good portion of my time scrubbing floors that look like Linda Blair stopped by for pea soup. But hey ... look! That boy who never sits still? He's cuddling with me for hours on end.

But potty training? Nothing. Zilch. Nada.

So back to Wilder. He's actually doing pretty well. He's peeing in the pot on a regular basis, doesn't require a lot of props (either physical or of the atta-boy variety, although chocolate rewards help), and you can be assured that if he's acting like a bunch of fire ants are in his pants, he's gotta take a leak.

But poop? Well, he just won't do it. Won't even seem to consider it. I've heard there are a multitude of reasons for this, and that it's completely normal. So trying to get to the bottom of it, I asked him why he didn't want to poop in the potty. I can't remember his exact answer, probably because there was nothing even remotely resembling logic involved. But it basically came down to he just didn't think it's what people did.

So, if your ears burned today, it's probably because I was sitting on the bathroom floor assuring Wilder that everyone we knew, myself included, poops in the potty. Grandpa? Check. Luke? Check. Micah? Check. The list went on and on.

It didn't do any good, but at least it filled some time.