If By “Toilet” You Mean…
Before we begin, if you are underwhelmed by potty humor, you might want to move along. If, however, you are the parent of a small child – especially of the male gender – welcome. This is a safe place. Solidarity, my friend. So… I’ve been under the assumption my three year old is potty trained. I have believed for the past few months that he was taking himself to the bathroom when he needed to go potty. Now that I know the truth, I long for the days of naiveté. Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it? I caught him a few days ago with his underwear around his ankles and a…
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“HOW DO THESE THINGS ACTUALLY HAPPEN TO YOU?! I’m being totally serious–you are a completely engaged, capable, attentive mom–and yet?!?” – my friend Aimee. Also, probably my husband. There’s a list of about 5 establishments our family should never enter again. Due to unforeseen bathroom emergencies, we should never again step foot inside the Kroger pharmacy, Panera Bread, King Wok II, Rosa’s Tortilla Factory, or Braum’s. It’d been a while since we’ve disgraced ourselves publicly with a banishable offense, so we were probably due.
Oh, the Places You’ll Poo
We spent 30 minutes in a Braum’s bathroom last week. 30 minutes of an 8 hour road trip spent in a fast food bathroom stall. I thought lugging a kid (or two) and a diaper bag into a bathroom stall for my own potty break was intense. I just had no idea. Potty training is no joke. And while the conversations my boy and I have while spending ample time in public bathrooms are a slow and painful death by embarrassment, I know they’ll be funny one day. Maybe you remember these conversations. Or maybe you’re in the thick of them. Or maybe they will make you swear off having children. Regardless, I want to…
Do GNAT go in your underwear, young man.
I’ve never done an Ironman or even a Tough Mudder but I have potty trained a tiny human, so I get the gist. Sometimes I feel like I should spread out my more…uh…”uncouth” posts, but let’s get real – there’s nothing couth about small children and sometimes the key to survival is laughter. Which is partly why I’ve been a little bit excited about this stage for a while. I knew, despite the frustration and tears and laundry, some great laughs would come from potty training. (A fact I reminded myself of over and over yesterday as I remained crouched on the floor of a Target bathroom stall for 20…
