Kind of a lame ass title, I know. But it was better than Bub: This Child is Going to be the Death of Me. And there you have it.
So clearly you can see where this blog post is headed. We’ve reached that super fun time in your parental life also known as Potty Training. Or as I often refer to it, The Seventh Circle of Hell. Because really, it is. At least in my house. My children are not easily trained. Nub and Dub were both almost four before either of them were trained. Bub is proving to be much like his bubbas in that respect. He does NOT want to potty in the toilet. And we have three bathrooms! He will not potty in his chair, he will not potty any where. Seventh. Circle. Of. Hell.
So I have decided that he is simply going to just do it. No more pull-ups because I’m tired of buying the damn things. I’m tired of changing them. So he is gonna learn to go potty like a big boy. Period. I don’t care how many tears there are. His or mine. Harsh? Perhaps. But believe me when I tell you we have tried it all. Cheerios? Yep. Candy? You betcha. Bribery? Damn skippy. Tears? Buckets and rivers, y’all. Most of them mine. Special equipment? Absofrickinlutely. Tried. It. All.
Hence, the putting underwear on and just going for it portion of the program, thankyouverymuch. We’re not having a lot of success at this point. But it’s early! Day 1! It’ll get better, right? Or easier? Keep in mind I’m quite fragile at the moment and base your responses accordingly.
Guess it’s a good thing I bought that seven pack of underwear, eh?