Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
Kevin hadn’t “pottied” in three days. THREE DAYS. He claimed he was “saving up for a big one.” I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but let’s just say I know now. And I’d rather not discuss it over dinner. When I finally cornered him in the living room, surrounded by crumpled diapers like a hoarder’s confession, he gave me those big eyes and whispered “I wike diapers, Cory.” Try as I might, he really didn’t want to use the potty.
Changing him was always a challenge. Last time, he flopped dramatically onto the changing mat I laid out and whined that the powder irritated his “tushie sensors.” I’m not kidding. Actual phrase. I tried to stay professional, like a diaper-disposal Navy SEAL, but then he giggled and let one rip simultaneously while I had his legs in the air, and I lost it. I mean, I didn’t get angry or anything. Instead, I laughed like a maniac, which only encouraged him to do it again. Sigh.
Kevin hadn’t “pottied” in three days.
By the fourth day of diapering, I started wondering if this was some bizarre cosmic punishment. “Karma,” I muttered, peeling back yet another soggy fortress of absorbency with an over-capacity wetness indicator, “you are a cruel mistress.” Kevin just grinned, sucking on his binky like he’d won the lottery. I even caught him wiggling his toes in delight. Delight! All while I was elbow-deep in…well, it wasn’t pretty and it was definitely “a big one.”
Eventually, I instituted a “potty points” system. Five points for using the potty, redeemable for extra TV time. He earned three points by Day Two, but then immediately spent them all on a sippy cup that says “I’m the boss!” in glittery letters. I’ve accepted my fate. Kevin’s happy. The house smells faintly of baby lotion and regret. I don’t know who’s in charge anymore, honestly. But at least the diaper changes are less frequent. Mostly.
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
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