On Potty Training, the Three-Point Line, and Disinfecting Wipes

This potty training thing has certainly proven to be a process of trial and error for both child and parent.

I imagine it’s easiest teaching a boy to first master using the pot from a seated position for all his purposes. 

Inevitably though, a boy is going to begin experimenting with peeing standing up.  It’s in our nature and I usually get some strange sense of pride to know that my son is learning to pee like a man already….usually.

 However, my toddler just attempted a skill shot from about four and a half feet back; a place at the very edge of our bathroom that will now be forever referred to as the three point line. 

It was an attempt the likes of which I have never seen performed by a sober person. 

Believe me, I tried to stop him, but by the time I realized what he was going to do, it was already too late.

There was a moment; a proud astonished moment where (while looking completely relaxed as if he’d performed this amazing feat a thousand times) the trajectory had been estimated perfectly, arcing in; nothing but net. 

Then he got cocky.  A slight sway of the hips that began turning an otherwise glorious moment to chaos and then a panicked over-correcting that marred this day with tragedy.

My foot was peed upon. 

Everything was peed upon. 

This is why disinfecting wipes exist.  If you’re a parent, get some.  Keep them handy. 

This will happen to you.  

It's a Jungle In Here

     You rise from your slumber to find that the house has been ransacked.  The drawers are all hanging open, their contents strewn about the floor. Broken bits of your favorite possessions and shredded papers are everywhere.  Even half eaten pieces of food litter the ground and it’s hard to take a single stride through the chaos without stepping onto something.  Most worrisome though is the extreme quiet.  It’s never this quiet.  So you creep through your house, surveying the damage.  Some bizarre cartoon flickers on the television screen that is now smeared with some unknown substance and it grabs your attention.  It’s in that instance that you are attacked. 

     “AAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!” you hear the crazed war cry from somewhere behind you and you spin around just in time to see the short, naked person, barreling at you faster than you can react.  He has some sort of club in his hand.  His tiny body is smeared with paint and he grins ear to ear, baring his teeth as he charges you at top speed.  All you can do to protect yourself is step back at the moment he’s within striking distance, grab him as he goes by and swing him over your head.  He only laughs at your efforts, unphazed.  There is no reasoning with this sort of maniac, only cuddling, and he wants you to take him to the zoo.