Now I am officially a mommyblogger. WATCH YOUR BACK, DOOCE.
So we finally potty-trained Jonah. I feel like he is 17 years-old compared to all his little preschooler female friends who have been toileting themselves since age 2 and do their own laundry to rub it in our faces. But I guess he is sort of a normal age. Whatever. The point is, we ran out of excuses not to and it wasn’t terrible this time like it was the last two times we tried over the past year. I guess Toddler 411 was right all along that if you wait until the kid is ready (reeeeeaaaalllly ready), it only takes 24 hours. It wasn’t terrible because I only flung myself on to our bed once crying.
But what I should have anticipated is that using sweet treats as rewards would result in nothing but bad news. Each mini marshmallow, each M&M/Smartie, each cookie or Swedish fish fed the rage monster of our “spirited” (euphemism for sometimes unbearable) 3 1/2 year-old. By Day 3 he would be mid-stream and barking at me his exact order for treats, with specifics on colour, quantity and placement. And his tone wasn’t so much demanding as threatening. Like Lady, I will pee on my brother if you don’t listen carefully and deliver. That’s the thing about poor Simon too- he’s always in the cross-fire. Is that a pun? I have no idea.
Sorry, this is all so gross.
Brief interlude: among all the language differences for baby and child terminology in England, I love how they say “wee” and “poo” instead of “pee” and “poop”.
Anyway, I had to nix the treats by Day 4. So I switched to stickers that could be built up in quantity to culminate in a movie outing with Daddy. So this past Saturday Jonah went to his second-official full-length movie theater movie with Bryan. They saw Madagascar 3 with 3D glasses and I kind of constantly checked my phone to see the picture texts and updates. Because Jonah’s unbridled excitement – well, it- well you know what it did to me. His high is mine, that beautiful monster.