Bedtime was swiftly approaching, and Hobie’s diapers were still cycling through the dryer. After quite the week with serious school struggles between myself and a certain Ibis, and a Monday holiday and Tuesday spent mostly away from home, I was running a little behind on the laundry. So Hobie was running around in the nude (like you’ve never had nude toddlers in your house), and I was enjoying a few minutes with Facebook, reading all the happy success stories of my friends’ kids doing happy successful things in their potties. I turned around, and there was Hobie, standing over a suspicious brown lump on the rug, completely mortified. Of course, he had no clue that said brown lump had been deposited there by he himself. Ten minutes later, the initial spot on the rug, the other spot on the rug that occurred as he plopped down [ahem] still a mess to play while I was doing my best impression of a panicked octopus (the 8 legs part, not the ink part), Hobie, the changing table, and I were once again cleaned up and ready for take two. No pun intended.
|Let’s pretend these are his Thomas jammies|
|Alexei, circa 2005|
Tags: potty training