Negotiations

Four year-old Andrew has finally acquiesced to be potty-trained.

I can only hand the success to THE NANNY here in our house who has boldly and brilliantly led the path to diaper freedom.

Andrew has the know how.

He has the skills.

And he has an unbelievable willpower.

We discovered recently that if he's in underpants, he goes to the toilet.

If he's in a pull-up, he doesn't.

Truly, he just doesn't want to.That lovely padded pull-up is just so cozy, who in his right-toddler-mind would worry about pulling that thing down to sit on a briskly cold and hard toilet seat?

I ask you.

So we challenge him, requiring that he step out of the nighttime pull-up as soon as he wakes. Thus, he lands squarely back in responsibility land; the land where he is fully capable and fully trained. He prefers the land of denial. But whatever, I am the mama.

Last week, he and I entered a discussion which went something like this:

"Hey Droopers, lets get that pull-up off and get some big boy pants on!"

"uh... no."

"Yep. It's time dude. Drop the drawers and let's get dressed."

"Mom. I'm just gonna wear this pull-up okay?"

"Nope, you are going to wear pants buddy."

Don had gone downstairs to retrieve a pair of big boy underwear from the school backpack (in case of accidents at playgroup) and I scurried Andrew along to find his dad and get his pants on.
He swish-thunked down the stairs on his bottom with his pull-up clad derriere striking each step to make a resounding thud, and he called out "Daddy. Daaaaady. Daaaaaady" as he made his way to the bottom. Reaching the destination (and the dreaded underpants) he explained to Don with much fervor and conviction (clearly, the wheels turning in his head):
"Dad, just put the pants OVER my pull-up. Okay?"

As if to say: I will comply with your must-wear-pants dictate, but let's do it this way which works out oh-so-much-more-comfortably-for-me.

As if kid. As if.