I was awoken by Tornado S telling me, “Mommy! I need to go potty!”
I rolled over and undid his diaper.
Only Tornado S meant to say, “MOMMY! I’m peeing!”
With my hand thoroughly drenched, I was wide awake and shouting, “GO TO THE BATHROOM! RUN! RUN! RUN!”
Maybe that wasn’t the best phrase to use. Or tone. But he ran and finished in the potty.
He received a candy.
For the next three hours, he tried peeing in the potty. Tinkling a few drops and demanding candy. Sorry, little dude, you have to actually empty your bladder to get a treat.
As I rehunted the Internet for my mom’s frosting recipe (because I lost it after she gave it to me and then I found it last night on the Internet, printed it out, and promptly lost it again because that’s how I roll), I heard the sound of running water. Running water hitting the carpet. I spun around to see Tornado S emptying his bladder on the carpet. ACK!
GO TO THE POTTY! RUN! RUN! RUN!
Again. Not the best response. So I flipped the bird at the computer because it just wouldn’t yield the recipe in a timely manner and went to find paper towels and Simple Green. Sonofabitch.
An hour later, I was stirring frantically as I made little stepping stones from a package. Apparently they gave me QuickSet instead of Plaster of Paris because the stone was setting before I was even done stirring. I wanted to make handprints on the stone, but we’re settling for painting them. As I was stirring, Tornado S came up to me.
“Mommy! I went green poop! I went green poop in the potty!”
Ok, my responses really do suck.
I jumped up.
“Tornado E! Stir the QuickSet! Tornado S! Where’s your poop? ! Do you need to poop more?!”
There was a tiny log on the floor. Tornado S ran before me into the bathroom. I remembered Tornado E didn’t replace the seat after his own bowel movement on the regular toilet earlier in the morning. Crap. As I ran into the bathroom, ready to do damage control. I noticed two things. The seat was on the training potty. And there was a big log in the potty.
My son rocks!
So we celebrated for ten seconds before I realized I left a four-year-old stirring QuickSet. Damn. I ran back, finished making the stepping stone, ran to get the celebratory candy, cleaned up the poop, called my parents for a celebration call, called Tornado S to flush his own poop, and thanked God for not making me crazy enough to take a picture of the poop before it was flushed down.
So two steps back, one step forward. It’s a dance.