NUMBER TWO

On Sunday night after we returned home from a brief trip to the Irvine Spectrum, Landon announced that he had to ‘go poop’. We dropped our bags, and gently set down Colt, and hurried Landon into the downstairs bathroom where he proceeded to strip off all of his clothes. I left the room to keep an eye on his little brother as Landon perched on his plastic throne. A few minutes later he emerged jumping up and down with a proud smile plastered across his face. I was then escorted by his beaming face into the bathroom where four rounds turds sat on the bottom of his training toilet. We exchanged numerous high fives. Landon proceeded to race around the house exclaiming his new accomplishment. We called his grandparents so he could share the news with them. Then Landon began to list all of the trains he wanted us to purchase for him now that he had accomplished such a monumentous feat. For the past several months, anytime he has seen a toy, most often a toy train that he wants, we have informed him that he has to go poop first and then we’ll get him the toy/train he desires. Apparently he has been keeping a fairly extensive mental list. True to our word, yesterday Landon received a new toy train. More importantly, Landon made another solid deposit in the plastic potty – this time he was sure to display his creation to Rhiannon’s friend Amber. And again today we were off to the toy store for another locomotive reward.

So as the potty training moves forward there are still several hurdles in the way. Landon has successfully been diagnosing when he needs to take a pee at least some of the time. Unfortunately most of his decries that he needs to use the toilet come after he has been tucked into bed. Last night Landon galloped out of his room every hour between eight and eleven calling for his Dad to help him go use the toilet. All four times he did actually fire his squirt gun which is good; it’s just a little hard to be too supportive when it comes at the cost of his sleep. In regards to his squirt gun, another reoccurring problem is that Landon hasn’t spent much time at the firing range so his aim is a little off. If he sits on his plastic seat, the wall across the room usually gets showered, and if he stands on the regular toilet seat while his Dad keeps him steady (Landon’s preferred technique) then the back of the toilet seat gets wet. Typically in this scenario once the stream starts to flow I will try to point Landon’s entire torso in the direction of the toilet bowl, hoping that at least a little urine find it’s target. And even though Landon has made some significant steps forward toward becoming potty trained, he still refuses to wear anything other than traditional diapers, no pull-ups or underwear of any kind are permitted. On Sunday we also went to the local swimming lagoon, and Landon would only wear his swimming diaper over a traditional diaper, then over the top of those he had to wear a rubber diaper and then his swim trunks – talk about dressing in layers.

Unrelated to his excretory successes, Landon has continued to develop a strong will, which I guess he probably inherited from his parents. His tantrums have become significantly prolonged at times, to the point that he often has trouble calming down. It creates a difficult situation for parents like us that are still learning the rules to this whole discipline/development game. As he bawls his eyes out in anger my first impulse is often a hurried embrace and a feeble attempt to distract his attention away from whatever is bothering him, rather than to address the problem at hand and parent accordingly. Sometimes the fact that he is a three-year old boy, who can’t always reason and make his own proper decisions gets lost in the ruckus and we both suffer. Last night when I returned from home from work I expected to find a joyous child playing with his new train and still beaming with poop pride, instead I found a boy still waking up from his nap who within 5 minutes deteriorated into a screaming anger spiral that he maintained for the next hour. I tried my standard bait and switch distraction technique with limited success – his whining persisted and intensified. We even attempted to take him to the local park with the hope that a little fresh air might quiet his nerves. Halfway to the park the tantrum continued to rage, and our frayed nerves decided that it was time for the hammer to drop, so against Landon’s now raised screams we dragged him back home and directed him to his room, where he would stay, alone, until he could calm down. Ten minutes later we checked the monitor in his room and he was quietly playing. Thirty minutes passed and he exited his room and told his Mom that he figured out why he was angry and offered unsolicited apologies to both of us. Needless to say we were surprised and very pleased. Needless to say this whole parenting thing remains a complete mystery.

Colt is still a goofy little boy, who stumbles along with a smirk. The past week he hasn’t really understood that his Mom isn’t able to pick him up after her surgery, so frustrated by here rebukes he has come to me for solace and a more elevated view. I’ve enjoyed the extra time we get to spend together, his determined finger pointing the way to whatever object will comprise our next adventure. Colt’s vocabulary still remains largely understood only by himself, although new words continue to be produced daily for the rest of his family to understand as well. The other day he waddled up to Dakota and swatted her nose while emphatically squealing ‘no!’ a routine I’m sure he learned from observation. Colt is a mimic of his brother, intently watching his actions and then doing his best impersonation. The boys continue to get along better all the time. It brings a smile to my face every time I hear them giggling together in the back seat. I don’t dare to imagine the ridiculous adventures the year’s ahead have in store for the two of them together.

So life continues to be good, although a little extra smelly presently. Plastic training toilets without any water have an insidious odor. Trust me.