Ray started back to preschool yesterday. He was sooo excited when I picked him up: “I went to school today. I go again! Can I go again? I went to school today,…” He grabbed my hand, took me over to his backpack and showed me all the papers stuffed inside. Papers for me to fill out. SIGH. But he’s happy happy happy now that he is back in school.
Talked with his teacher about the state of potty training. He still won’t go on his own. We’ve tried bribery. We’ve tried praise. It just won’t take. I’m out of ideas. Right now his potty training is an adult remembering that he needs to go every so often. And poo? Don’t even think about it. He gets hysterical if he can’t run in the room and hide to do it. There’s nothing quite like getting thrown out of a room so that: “I hide. Need to go poop. GO!” He becomes a little dictator. When I told teacher about it, all she said was “He’s very private.” That’s fine— be private all you want. But can’t he be private on the potty? Where I don’t have to clean up the mess?
And then there’s the potty mouth. Currently, his favorite words start with a**. As in spank that a**, punk a**, etc etc. There’s also the s**t word that just made an appearance. Normally, I tell him “I can’t hear you when you talk like that,” and then proceed to ignore him. Works rather well. But yesterday, on the way home, he started yelling at the other drivers for me. “You drive like s**t! S**T! You bad driver!” And on and on…. I tried to tell him I couldn’t hear him… Really I did. But I was too busy laughing. That high, sing song little boy voice cussing out drivers on the road (and no, I didn’t start it), was too much for me. I laughed until there were tears in my eyes. Baad mommy. You’re not supposed to laugh.
And no, I’m not the cusser. If I was, he would be dropping the F bomb, which is my favorite in times of stress.
Oh, my little man. If only the potty training worked as well as your potty mouth!