So we have, for better or worse, been sitting at home for the last two days taking our almost-three-year-old boy to the potty every 15-30 minutes in an attempt to get down to just one kid in diapers. I'm hoping that with the baby graduating from formula to whole milk soon and only one box of diapers to buy we may be able to afford to buy meat again in time for the July 4th weekend. Unfortunately, this dream depends upon a toddler's cooperation and potty training is not exactly what you would call successful at this point.
Although we have had some correct placement of waste, we also have a kid who refuses to poop if he can't use his diaper. For days. He is displaying a level of determination that I think we could use to teach special forces operatives how to hold up under torture.
While I admire his strength of will, I find the entire thing messy, tedious, and a depressing waste of my master's degree.
Finally, after 15 times of peeing on himself in two days, something seems to have clicked. He has been right on target four times in a row now and I have done the Potty Dance for each success.
The Potty Dance is sung to the tune of "Shake Your Booty" and goes like this: "Dance, dance, dance! Dance dance dance! Potty Daa-aaance, whoo! Potty Daa-aaance!"
My cute boy, flush with success, spinning in his Mickey Mouse underwear, looked up at me and said, "Dat make me happy."
Me, too, buddy. Me, too.