So, I had a brilliant idea. I thought, "Let's start potty training!" I'm not going to lie to you because you're good people...potty training at this age is more about training me
I did a little reading about potty training before I started, but all I really learned is that I am not going to refer to my child's urine as "te-te." People actually say that? Yes, apparently, they do.
"Pee" or "pee pee" is what we will say in my house, even if my high school English teacher thinks that word is crass.
Anyway, we started the potty training. He's actually doing very well. He sits on the little potty that goes on the big potty (because who wants to clean out those little plastic potties?), he makes a "shhhhh" sound, and then - about 75% of the time - he pees. After lots of hollering and hugging about how awesome he is (I do the hollering, not him), he grabs a little piece of toilet paper, wipes himself, and pushes it into the potty. Finally, he gets up, flushes the potty, and claps.
I've been calling it success, even though the whole charade hinges on me bringing him to sit on the potty approximately every twelve minutes which effectively removes my ability to do anything else in life.
But then, tonight, my dad called.
"Mom was telling me about how the baby goes potty," he said.
"Yeah?" I responded, not being able to figure out why he sounded so weird about it.
"You're ruining him! He's going to get beat up when he goes to school! Boys don't wipe for crying out loud!"
So there you have it...that's what you get for letting a woman teach a boy how to pee.