So, I guess I have to start potty training?

I am not really one to share stories of my children's um, bathroom mishaps, with a public audience. I tell specific people, but realize that the general population probably doesn't care to know about such things. And in Jack's life, we've had lots of stories. God apparently decided just to throw me in deep when it came to bodily fluids and motherhood. And he's given me grace to deal with it every time. If you'd told me pre-kids about some of the things I would have to clean up, I would have told you that I would have just burned the house down or something. I even hate the word "potty." It is on my least favorite words list along with "hubby" and "panties." But, I think I'm about to start using it a lot. Jack is going up force me to potty train him it seems. (I was quite willing to give him another 6 months or so.)

A few minutes ago, shortly after he was put down to nap, I heard him crying and went in to find this:



(Sorry older Jack who may see this someday. But just keep in mind the following story and then maybe send your mother a thank you card. Or money. Or jewelry. I've got other stories I haven't told yet, so be nice to your mama!)

He apparently felt the need to pee, took off his shorts and dry diaper and decided the best course of action would be to climb up on his shelf and pee on his cd player. Why the cd player? Maybe he's trying to tell us he wants an iPod? I guess a cd player was the closest thing he found to a toilet? I can see a few similarities, if I imagine really hard. Oh the mind of a two year old!

Tyler happened to be home and I called him in and we both just kind of stared at Jack, who was staring at us, and tried not to bust up laughing. For me, one of the hardest parts of being a mom is not laughing when I shouldn't. That and cleaning pee out of a cd player, and the shelf, and the toys on the shelf, and the carpet.

We had a talk about not taking diapers off and toilets and asking for help and such. But I've said all along that I won't start potty training until he shows me he's ready. And though this is one of the worst and funnier incidents, we've had similar ones recently. I think a message is emerging.

Pray for me and send me gifts of Clorox wipes.

The end.

Except it's more like the beginning...