October 21, 2011

potty mouth

A couple of weeks ago, Malcolm learned a new word.

When playing in the living room.


When greeting me after a nap.


When laying on the floor and watching TV.


When asked, "What is (or was) in your diaper?" (Which I do many times a day since his little voice, and the way he says "Poop!" is so stinkin' cute.)


It seemed my kid had poop on the brain, so I did what any proactive mother would do ... I took his little potty chair down from the attic and placed it prominently in the bathroom.

Although I'd love to sit here and type how my genius son potty trained himself in twenty-four hours (or something like that), that just isn't the case ... Malcolm definitely understands the concept (he has been following me into the bathroom since he could crawl), but I can tell that he's not quite ready to take that next step.

For one, although he will tug at his diaper or tell me that there is some poop inside, he, just as often, will sit around in a dirty diaper without any fuss until I grab the diapering supplies and go to it. And as much as he enjoys sitting on his potty chair fully clothed (and wiping his diapered butt with toilet paper), he doesn't seem to have much time for it when he is naked and actually able to use it.

I don't know what "the norm" is for boys and potty training, but I honestly hadn't given any of it much thought until Malcolm decided that "Poop!" was a fun word to say.

I'd love to have him out of diapers before Baby #2 arrives in March, but I'm not holding my breath.

As I've seen firsthand with his verbal abilities, Malcolm works on Malcolm's timetable. He doesn't care if I want him to be able to really communicate with me (although his ASL signing skills have certainly helped in that department). He doesn't care if family members insist that something must be wrong with him and we should get his hearing checked. He doesn't care if the kids around him are spouting off words left and right ...

He does what he wants to do, when he wants to do it.

I have no doubt that potty training will be exactly the same. Malcolm will decide that big boy underpants are cool as soon as he feels like they're worth his time.

So, until that fateful day, the potty chair will sit (gathering dust) in our bathroom, prompting a gleeful "Poop!" from Malcolm every time he notices it.

And I'm totally okay with that.

(Did I mention how stinkin' cute it is when his little voice says "Poop!"?)

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