The Importance of Pants

Matt is still potty training. I took a break from it when I decided that if I had to drag him screaming to the bathroom, we probably weren't going to be very successful. So we had a lovely break where he wore pullups like diapers and I tried to avoid letting anyone know that my 3 1/2 year old was actually not potty trained.

We're back and he's still hard to get into the bathroom. He still hates the idea of it. He likes diapers. Diapers are convient. You never have to think about them. You never have to stop to take a potty break. Someone else takes care of you when you have a diaper. he's past the point where mommy's praise is all he needs. He doesn't seek it like a two year old does. I often wish I could have been possible to train him last summer. But I think about my eight month pregnant belly and a boy who couldn't speak clearly, and I know that we had to wait.

Matt's a tough nut so I had to come up with a unique way to crack him. Chocolate as a reward doesn't work, because mommy eats it all. Praise doesn't work very well with him either. So mommy has resorted to rewarding with pants. yes, Pants. We start the day in just underwear. If he goes potty, he gets pants. He doesn't get to play outside without them, so it's a pretty decent incentive. Not that he's actually making any progress. He's earned pants maybe twice this week. I can't keep up on the laundry. I've resorted to stealing underwear from his brother's drawer just to keep up. I think my worst nightmare is trying to train a child forever. Days of wet and soiled underwear stretch on into infinity and never, ever end.

So yesterday I had to use the bathroom while he was trying to use his potty chair.

"Mommy, are you going potty?"

"yes, I am."

"Do you get pants?"

Yes, Matt. Luckily, as a no longer pregnant mother who must fear sneezes, yes, I get pants.