So, yeah. Potty training. Day four. And, I run a lean, mean, potty training, boot camp machine. Big Brother went through it in Connecticut and now Little Brother is locked up with me in Massachusetts. We make virtually no plans for five straight weekdays and just hammer it out. Underpants all day, mistakes or no mistakes. Underpants, dude. Get used to it.
Motivational sticker chart and Tootsie rolls in hand, I am the potty police and Little Brother is my inmate.
The good news is, Little Brother’s been a total superstar. He’s doing great. Two pee mistakes and one unfortunate…other kind.
The bad news, though, is that while he is my prisoner, I am his as well. Meaning I have spent countless (countless!) hours with DJ Lance Rock, Candy Land and my washing machine. Countless hours acting like I’ve just won Megabucks when four drops of urine hit the toilet water. Countless hours sweating my a** off inside my house in this town of ocean breezes as the humidity level hovers around 149%.
I am Jack Torrance and this is my hotel.
S’ok, though. Because there’s a light at the end of this “I’m about to go completely batshit if I spend another day stuck in my house” tunnel. And the light means I will never. change. a. diaper. again. Ever.
And, that’s pretty cool.
Confessions of a Serial Swooper 
Are Tootsie Rolls a subliminal messaging thing? 🙂
I know. So gross, huh? Worked for Big Brother though so we’re going with it.
I’m sending Colt over next week!
Sorry. Potty’s closed.
Is it a bad thing that I’m ALREADY fantasizing about not ever having to change a diaper again, despite the fact that Cubby is only 5 months old?