I decided to potty train Larry in November. I remembered that Lennon potty trained quickly but still took months to become independent at it. It's hard enough taking Larry to every public restroom in this city; the last thing I need is a huge, heavy, crappy carseat in tow as well. So we did it.
Good news: He's gotten better each week. In fact, it's rare he has an accident now. However, we are part of a babysitting co-op group. Four couples who take turns watching all the kids on Saturday night so the others can go out minus paying for a babysitter. One particular family is so nice. They are just NICE. Their house is so clean, and they are so sweet to everyone, and their house is so clean. This is where Larry has chosen to poop on the floor. Twice. The first time (last month) we figured it was a fluke...apologized profusely, talked to Larry about it, moved on. Then on Saturday night we dropped them off and I broke my own rule about ZERO PULL UPS just to save them the trouble in case he did it again. Oh he did it again. But pulled his pants down first. I am not kidding when I say I wanted to die when we found out. I asked Tod to dig a hole for me to crawl into but he just kept driving instead. Why Larry. Why.
Our conversations have evolved so much over the last nine years. We used to talk about our future together. We talked about the kind of family we wanted, how the other person was so perfect and how could we be so lucky to have found each other?
Conversation this morning:
Me: How bad was it?
Tod: Not toooo bad...it wasn't rock hard but it was sort of gooey.
Me: Okay, okay enough.
Tod: Gooey's not the word. I'd say the consistency was comparable to peanut butter with a little flour mixed in.
Me: OKKKKAAAAY stop!
Tod: Peanut butter, flour, then I'd guess maybe a tablespoon of water? It was somewhat grainy yet runny.
I hate potty training.