Monday, October 23, 2006

Warning! For experienced parents only or very accepting friends

"I'm gonna get my Mom for this post."

Our children have always had favorite potty spots once they hit the age of realization; you know, the age (usually two to three years old) at which they know they shouldn't poop in their pants, yet they still do.

The girls always liked under-the-table spots, usually the dining room table. They really didn't care if others were seated at the table, which made dinner guests a little uneasy. The point, in their toddler minds, was that no one could see them so obviously no one knew what they were doing. Never mind the odd grunts and the odiferous haze slowly eking out from beneath the table, the girls were content that they were pooping their pants on the sly and Mom would be shocked later.

The boys, on the other hand, tend to use the piano as a hiding place to do their big jobs. I guess you could say that Beethoven had his kind of movements and the Jones boys have theirs. Hayden, who enjoyed under-the-piano jobs, eventually graduated to the potty and we were so thankful. Landon prefers the behind-the-piano position. In his toddler mind, he can't be seen, even though his torso and legs are quite visible and his intentions clear.

Today after church and lunch, as soon as we walked in the door, he made a mad dash to the piano. Jimmy, accustomed to the screams of protest if he dare mention going to the big potty, just told Landon to tell Daddy when he was done and he'd change his pants.

Landon was there a few minutes and then announced, "Daddy, I poop in da Big Boy Potty wike Bubba."

Jimmy, not about to waste a precious second, about tripped running to grab the sweet child and race him to the potty, sure the job had already been done and it would be a matter of awkward cleanup with a standing-up dirty diaper boy.

I ran straight to the bathroom and placed the long-to-be-used potty seat on the toilet while Jimmy hesitantly and cautiously removed the aforementioned diaper. The diaper was clean.

Had this child now decided on his own that this was his moment of potty glory? Was this the day we would celebrate for months to come, honoring the child whose new pooping spot was actually an appropriate, socially acceptable one?

Jimmy got a little stool (no pun intended) to sit on next to Landon and I went to grab books for them to read.

They read one book...nothing. They read another book...not a thing. They read a third book...narry a sound. They read the first book no avail.

Landon then happily announced that he was through and ready to dismount when they heard a small little plop in the toilet water. If we had bells and whistles and confetti ready to go off in the restroom, no little boy could have been more proud and excited.

We screamed and jumped with him and mentioned that the next time he needed to poop, he should come here instead. He was a graduate. Big things were about to happen.

He walked away from that toilet naked as a majestic jaybird, proud as a peacock, and I swear he was two inches taller.

We would never have the heart to tell him that what had hit that toilet water was, in fact, just a "dangler" from his previous work behind the piano. But that's okay. He thinks he did it and that's all that really matters.

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