Remember when you were a kid and you could not understand a concept. No matter how hard you tried you could not get it. Usually it was math that made me frustrated, especially algebra. I would reread the lesson, do the problems with answers, check them to find that I didn’t get the right answer, knowing I couldn’t even attempt the problems without answers. I would cry in sheer frustration. I had issues with languages too. Then in college I took a upper-level chemistry class that had no pre-requirements my freshmen year. The class was about how drugs worked in the body, and I had to re-read chapters several times to make sense of anything. I was ready to beat my head on the concrete dorm wall.
Now I’m back to wanting to either cry or beat my head. Evan’s having accidents. Twice a week now. We went months (MONTHS) without an accident. I thought he had it with the occasional naptime accident and pull ups at night. I was thinking we’re out in the clear, just need to get to Sean in six months or more (probably the more part).
I understand the occasional accident because you didn’t want to miss a part in the movie or you didn’t want to go into a strange store bathroom, but most of these have occurred when he’s playing by himself. It’s not like he hasn’t taken his toys in the bathroom before to play as he used the potty. It began just once a week about a month ago. Then the last two weeks it’s been twice a week. I feel like I’m at my wits end.
I don’t want to embarrass him or make his shameful. I have to bite my tongue before I say the first bitter thing that would fly out of my mouth and insert a hefty psychological bill one day. I started making him clean it up with my help, not letting him play until it was done. Now I guess I’ll just retreat a few steps and start having him sit on the potty every hour on the hour just to make sure.