Training Camp

If you would have told me last week that in one week Owen would be completely potty trained, I would have laughed out loud! I have been dreading the process, having been discouraged by friends and family as to the difficulty, especially of training little boys. Lately though, O has been announcing every time he potties and he requests to be changed very promptly, even if he's just wet. After going through dipes at an alarming rate, I began to wonder what would happen if I let him wear underpants just while at home. We did this last Saturday and Sunday with nary an accident. I was shocked! Maybe he is ready for more intensive training camp, I thought. Monday, I decided to take the plunge. With O clad in his favorite car underpants (terminology lesson to follow!), no less than six changes of clothes (I was very pessimistic!) and a tiny potty in the back of the car, we ran errands all morning. Still completely dry! I was amazed! A week later, O has only had one true accident, and that happened in his bed right after he woke up from nap. (He still wears a dipe at night and wakes up soaked.) Training camp was not only successful but also completely painless!

Owen is so proud of himself, as are we! We sing a completely obnoxious celebratory song every time he potties, clapping and marching around the house. Final stop: the "gum" (that's candy to us) bowl.

Here O is carefully selecting the perfect piece of "gum." I took him to Target, where they have endless bins of brightly colored candy as far as the eye can see, and told him he could pick any kind he wanted for his "gum" bowl. He inspected the whole long row of bins and finally decided on chocolate covered raisins. Owen insists they are actually called "brownies." I am just thankful they have a smidgen of nutritional value, if you can call a raisin nutritious. Although we have several other options in the gum bowl (Smarties, fruit snacks, gummy worms), he selects a "brownie" every time!

Hanging out in his underpants. Growing up with only a sister, I always refer to undergarments by a distinctly feminine term. I was quickly reprimanded by my hubby that we were never to refer to Owen's underpants by that frilly name, unless I wanted him to be ridiculed for the rest of his life. And so, I must lay to rest the familiar and take up more masculine terms that have been approved of by Jeremy. I am allowed freedom of choice between underpants, underwear or underroos (only if they have a superhero on them). I am not sure if I can fit into this world of men!