So, yesterday was little guy’s birthday- the big “3”. I know, he’s getting to that age where he’ll need to find employment and move out.
We’ve been working on the potty training thing (you can read all about it here), and while the pee-pee portion of the training is sufficient, little guy still refuses to poo-poo on the potty. He’ll walk slowly to the far end of the living room, stealth-like, and stand by the window, as though pondering the universe. We all know what’s really going on over there. In fact, he’ll brave a look in our direction, a sly smile on his face. I say: “Let’s go sit on the potty.” And he responds: “NOOOOoooooooo……” As though we’ve caught him, as though he truly believed he was doing the deed and no one would ever find out.
This happened yesterday, on his birthday. My husband was the poor soul who braved a peek into the pull-up, and there was genuine fear in his voice when he said, “Oh. My. GOD.” Now, my husband is comedic when it comes to changing a diaper. He moans and groans and hollers out such catch phrases as: “Where did all of it come from?!?”
“It’s on my hand! Oh my God, it’s on my hand!”
“It’s never ending! It just won’t stop, I can’t clean it all!”
This time, the mess was so bad, he was afraid. And it did get on his finger, but that’s par for the course. What got me (and what’s he’s never said in the 3 years little guy has been on the planet) was when he cried out, “It’s like The Crying Game of diapers!” For those of you who don’t know this movie, check out the trailer here. You might remember a spoof of it, from Ace Ventura:
I laughed so hard, I might have needed a diaper change! If I wore diapers. Husband went to wash his hands, and while he did so, I grabbed his phone and clicked on the Youtube app, and pulled this up:
I brought the phone to my husband, and at first, he had no clue what was playing, but then he heard the familiar guitar rift, and both of us laughed until there were tears streaming down our cheeks. We laughed until we cried.
Little guy’s day went very well. There were no more blow outs, and he had great friends over for a party with Thomas the Train.
His new companion, Mr. Fish:
And, his familiar companion, Big Brother.
Happy Birthday, Little Guy. Thank you for giving us yet another memory to to pull out, when you are a teenager and driving us batty. Your girlfriend will love to hear about the time you pooped, and Dad compared it to The Crying Game. Although chances are, she’ll have no idea what that movie is.
We love you!
momarock 