The Adventures of Potty Boy, The Bandit And Mr. Footprint

Once again, names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.

We are in the worst stage of potty training. Also known as the "Please, please Mommy is begging you to poop in the potty" phase. I've changed enough poopy underwear to last me several lifetimes.

Since the boys are pretty predictable, I've been putting them on the potty about the time they usually do the deed and trying to keep them there for 5-10 minutes so they can go in the potty. It reminds me a lot of the early days of potty training.

Unfortunately, the boys have the run of the house now and are into a lot more things than they were in the early days. Which means that the other two get into a lot more trouble when I'm in the bathroom doing tricks to keep someone occupied long enough to do the deed.

Which brings us to what happened the other day...

After 15 minutes on the potty and no results, I put a certain boy in undies and sent him on his way. Not two minutes later I glanced over to see he had "the face." I grabbed him and raced to the potty saying, "Don't poop, don't poop, don't poop! Let's poop in the potty!" When I got him there, he had the job partly done, so I put him on the potty and encouraged him to finish on the potty. (Please, please, I'm begging you!)

About that time I heard major commotion from outside the bathroom, so I told Potty Boy to stay on the potty and stepped out to see what was going on. It took me a couple minutes to break up the fight.

When I returned to the bathroom I found Potty Boy was no longer on the potty. And what should have been in the potty was everywhere. There was poop on the potty seat, on the wall, on the bath mat, on the tub, on the stool, and on the sink. There was poop everywhere except where it belonged.

AAAARRRRGH!

I grabbed for the poopy-bottomed, poopy-handed boy and started to clean him up. Then I realized that he had also unrolled the entire roll of toilet paper and put it in the potty.

That's when I heard a crash and laughing from the kitchen. I grabbed the now-clean, but bare-bottomed boy and put him in his crib for a time-out. When I came out of his room I found one of his brothers walking down the hallway chugging half and half straight from the carton. The carton that had been in the fridge.

AAAARRRRGH!

I took the carton away, grabbed the Half and Half Bandit by the hand and followed the trail of liquid back to the kitchen.

Turns out that the safety latch on the fridge had finally given out under excessive pressure. Sloppy joe meat and a trail of tomato-sauce footprints covered the floor.

AAAARRRRGH!

I hollered for a time out and the culprits sat immediately. Which was convenient, since I needed to clean Mr. Footprint's feet.

I told them to STAY RIGHT THERE while I cleaned up the worst of the kitchen floor and got Potty Boy out of his crib.

I sat all three boys on the floor and was about to deliver a stern lecturing about listening to Mommy, not opening the refrigerator, and a few other things when the Half and Half Bandit looked up at me and grinned.

"That was YUMMY, Mommy!"

 And I was forced to send them off to play before they saw me laugh.

© Trippin' Mama 2011