About three weekends ago, it was late afternoon and I was enjoying some quiet time with my iPad in the living room. Then, I heard the most amazing and wonderful thing…
Scrape, thunk… flush, running water… little pounding footsteps. And then Nate’s smiling, sleepy face.
In my best southern accent: I do declare, this one is officially daytime potty trained!
Natesy’s learning curve has sky-rocketed in just a few short weeks, quickly decimating my Girl Scout stash of Samoas. There’s just one hitch— he will not go at school.
I’m a bit worried that he is holding it in all day. When Daddy come to pick him up at 5, he wants to immediately go home to use the facilities. Plus he’s always crazy thirsty. The other day I heard James whisper under his breath, “Come on Buddy, don’t be that guy.”
Fortunately, he rarely has accidents. My hyper-vigilance has faded and I almost never bring back-up clothes anymore. It seems he will use any restroom, as long as we’re with him… including the restroom at school.
His teachers still put diapers on him at nap time, but he can be trusted at home, even in the top bunk. At school I guess it makes sense because it’s his once a day pit stop.
On Sunday the boys had quite an adventure at their cousin Devon’s house… catching chickens, crawling out the dog door three hundred times, hugging Scruffy. I warned Angela and Nate that he needed to take a restroom break while we were gone. When James and I came back, Nate quickly took me up on my offer to use the commode.
I’m following his little curly towhead through their sunroom and Nate has his arms out to the sides with a big, overexaggerated shrug and a skeptical furrow of his eyebrows, “There’s no potty here?”
Auntie Angela assures me she showed him at least one of their two-and-a-half baths. “Nathaniel, you really think Uncle Geoff’s house doesn’t have a bathroom?”
“No?”
He’s totally that guy.