It's too late for a Hankey!

J and I decided that we'd jump into the world of potty training without much regard to the other circumstances in our lives, as we felt there would always be something going on to make it a less than ideal time, and I think it would be embarrassing to pack pull-ups for H to go to college. So far, it's been mildly successful in that H has peed in the potty about four times, total. It's been wildly unsuccessful in that he's pooped the same number of times...on the floor...in his bedroom.

Following a morning of poo clean-up with carpet shampoo, hot water and Clorox Anywhere spritzed on the door that was unfortunate enough to be leaned against, I left J in charge and went for pedicures and lunch with two of my girlfriends...Best three hours I've spent in a long time.

Which leads me to this afternoon. H was playing quietly in his room, and C had just fallen asleep. I grabbed the sling and rounded the hallway corner to tell H the good news that we were heading out to the playground...until I saw it...

H was standing by the window, his pants in the corner with an empty Easy Up (should be called Easy Down). My eyes quickly scanned the room, and my first thought "When did we get a dog?" Followed by "And why does he keep crapping on the floor?!" Riiiiight, we don't have a dog. My child has decided that pooping on the floor is preferable to doing so in the toilet, and a close second to doing so in his pull-up.

I put him in the bathtub (empty) and asked him to stand there while I cleaned up the mess. While I was fuming over having to clean my second deuce of the day, I was wracking my brain for how to explain 'the rules' to H without confusing him and stopping him from making progress in the training process.

I went into the bathroom, where H immediately roared at me (apparently it's Pooping Tiger, Hidden Dragon in this house), and I asked him to look at my face. I have always had a hard time getting H to make eye contact with me when he knows he's in trouble. He will look everywhere but at my face, making it harder for me to remain stern as his eyes are rolling all over the room and his dimples get deeper with his grin.

My 'talk' with him was largely a failure because I was trying to lay down the law that 'we only take our underwear off to go to the bathroom in the bathroom, while he was pursing his lips, gawking his eyes around and squirming...several nervous titters escaped from me, serving to completely undermine my message.

Awesome...

Later as he was washing his hands for the 400th time that afternoon (which I'm convinced is the only reason that he tries to go at all...flushing privilege and hand washing), I asked him when he's supposed to take off his pull-up. Without missing a beat he said "To go potty." I guess what goes (Easy) Up, must come down. I just hope that next time it's in the bathroom.