Last night after dinner, Darwin decided it would be a really good idea to strip down and suddenly proclaim, "Pee-pee? In da potty? Pee-pee? In da potty?"
So I walked him to the bathroom and he did as he always did: freak out at the site of the potty.
It's a healthy relationship.
I sat back down at the table and looked at Aaron. "Should I get out the little potty now?"
"Yeah. Probably. But it's dirty."
"I don't want to."
"Don't want to what?"
"Potty train Darwin. He's not ready."
"He's dancing in the living room, singing his love for the potty."
"But he's still a running pooper."
"Woman, he wants to pee in the potty. We should encourage that."
"But he doesn't even realize When He Poops Yet."
"But he wants to use the potty."
So I went upstairs and got the potty.
Darwin's face lit up like the Easter Bunny and Santa magically arrived on Halloween.
Darwin played with the potty. He'd sit, hold down is penis, stand up and proclaim, "Pee-pee?" Then he'd stand up, check to see if the potty was wet and begin the whole process over again.
He had to have an audience. If I didn't sit with him in the bathroom he'd follow me out, potty in tow, and sit it down and begin the pee-pee checking all over again.
After two hours of this, he suddenly began to get irate. Screaming, "Mommy! Mommy!" and holding his penis.
"What? You finally need to pee?"
"Well, then. Sit. On. The. Potty."
"What? You want to put a diaper back on and pee in the diaper?"
"Yes! Peas! Diaper, Mommy, diaper!"