Our cute, little booger is being potty-trained now.
I hate potty-training. To me, there's nothing cute about it. It's a nasty, disgusting business and I'd rather it pass by without me having to do with it.
The nasty, disgusting part is really not the part that I hate the most.
It's the fact that I have to get off my patoosky every stinking hour to place the cute, little patoosky on the potty chair.
Let's face it, I'd rather be doing something else.
He is the last one, though, so I will prevail in this. I must or the child will be using my floor for a potty chair for years to come.
Case in point.
Sneezy came to me with a soiled diaper telling me that he "poot". I don't know why I didn't believe him. Maybe because I didn't smell it, but I took his diaper off thinking there were no surprises.
Well, that surprise plopped out onto my carpet and I gasped in shock with my jaw to the floor.
Since Sneezy was standing in close proximity to the "surprise" I told him not to move. I went to grab his ankle to enforce this decree, but he jerked away.
His foot landed in the surprise.
It was Sneezy's turn to look utterly shocked with jaw to the floor as he stared at his foot oozing with surprise.
After the shock started to wear off, his face slowly crumpled into despair and wailing commenced.
I grabbed his ankle to prevent him from doing more damage to the carpet and proceeded to laugh until I cried.
The look of shock on his two-year-old face was priceless.