I was going through my routine, bounding happily away, and then I did a couple flips. I didn't notice that Charles had ceased hunting and was just watching me. Finally, on my last flip, I landed just right, on my feet, and kept bouncing. Charles came running over.
"Mom, you're just like a rock star! You are the coolest mom ever!"
I guess dragging my kids to the Capitol and abortion mills isn't entirely ruining my reputation. Especially if I can do flips on my trampoline and land on my feet.
Jonathan was bribed with a package of big boy Buzz Lightyear underwear. Caroline had her ears pierced. Charles.....not currently remembering, but it isn't vital to this current story. Oliver...took me awhile to find what caused the magic, but live crickets from Pet Smart was the lucky charm. Everyday he kept his pants dry, he got three crickets. Gabriel......still searching.
I had decided last week to use a method that was somewhat successful with Oliver on Gabriel: having the kid go without underwear. That's right. Except for a shirt, essentially naked. Oliver would make it to the toilet, but as soon as you put pants on him he was back to wetting them (until crickets became rewards).
I had put regular pants on Gabriel, which he proceeded to wet one set after another all day. Frustrated, I decided to remove everything. At first he was upset to be without his clothes unlike Oliver who had been thoroughly joyful at not having to wear pants. He'd likely join a nudist colony if he knew such a thing existed.
Within 10 minutes Gabriel had acclimated to life without pants, and was running around the upstairs with his siblings. Suddenly, Gabriel came down rubbing his eyes and attempting to cry, but not being quite successful. "What's the matter?" I asked, a little worried. "Did you pee on something?"
"No," Gabriel quickly responded. I was relieved. "Well, then what's your problem?" I asked going back to my dinner preparations. He didn't say anything, just continued the eye rubbing and fake crying. Oliver was bounding down the stairs. "He pooped on the stairs, mom!" He announced clearly thrilled to be the bearer of bad news. "What? What do you mean?" I was incredulous. His bottom looked clean enough.
I looked at Gabriel and he nodded his assent to Oliver's story, moving his fists a little away from his eyes to observe my response. I raced for the stairs, and there, yes, there on the stair was a perfect cow pie in miniature. How the kid managed to squat and get that out leaving his bottom relatively clean in the process, I will never know. The fact that he decided the stairs was a good spot to deliver the goods is hard for my mind to get around.
Fortunately, the little cow pie cleaned up quite nicely. Like one of those stiff dog turds you might find on the floor where it lifts off without a stain or residue, but you clean the daylights out that foot square area because of the very idea.
However, the pants off potty training method is clearly not an option for my 5th born. Until another idea presents itself, we are back in diapers. Still two in diapers. Sigh.
