Warning: this blog post contains mention of pee-pee in the toilet. If you find that disgusting or annoying, keep on movin'.
Tonight, at 7:00 pm Pacific time, Charlie peed in his little frog shaped toilet. The toilet that's been hanging out in our bathroom for weeks, the one that I keep tripping over, the one that Charlie treats like a toy / step stool / occasional hat.
We've been asking him lately if he's "gone". Or "has to go". Tonight he looked at me and said "I go poopies". You would've thought someone lit my pants on fire the way I jumped up, grabbed him and sat him on that little plastic frog.
And sat. And sat. He looked like he was waiting for a bus, really. Just mother and son, sitting in the bathroom. Even at almost 2, he understands it's a bit awkward.
But finally, there was a trickling noise. I wasn't sure if it was him or the washing machine on the other wall but sure enough, my little boy peed in his toilet! Pooping wasn't in the stars for him tonight but that's ok. The Phee Parade of Celebration wrapped through the house, cheering and singing (and the occasional howl from Cook). Charlie was so overtaken with emotion that he plunged both his little hands into aforementioned frog toilet.
Parade over. Sudsy washing and clothing change commences. Rich controls his gag reflex. (He's getting better. He managed to only dry heave on Friday night when Charlie ate one of Cook's dog treats . . . and then spit it all over the kitchen floor.)
There is much to celebrate in our little home tonight. And get your stomaches ready, because the peeing and pooping stories are just taking hold.
The Proud Parents of a Pee-er