Quinn! Quinn! Quinn!

Now that Jack has (finally) become totally potty trained (sorry, Future Jack, but you were 3 3/4 years old before you were ready), Quinn has become convinced that he is ready to potty train. Alex has eagerly jumped on board that train and keeps promising “the end of diapers by the end of the summer!” I’m less convinced.


Really what Quinn’s “potty training” consists of is him yelling, “Potty! Potty! Potty!” frequently and loudly. We moved a little potty into the bathroom for him today, but had to cut off his access after he started using bath toys to scoop water from the real toilet bowl into the bathtub. I tell you, that boy is really interested in what the toilet can do. A couple of days ago he ripped a full-size page out of my crossword puzzle book, ran to the bathroom, threw it in the toilet, and tried to flush it. I got there in the nick of time.


So now the little potty is traveling around the house to wherever it is Quinn’s fancy to push it. He sat on it for a little while today after insisting I take off his shoes (“Off! Off! Off!”). And then his pants (“Off! Off! Off!”). And then his diaper (“Off! Off! Off!”). After I refused to take off his socks (why, I don’t know), he took them off himself. I drew the line at his shirt.


After I redressed him and wouldn’t take his clothes off again, the potty became a receptacle for his odds and ends: his spare change (How does a nearly two-year-old have spare change you ask? Good eyesight, close proximity to the ground, and looking, looking, always looking.), his sippy cup. Oh yeah, and the half banana I found there this afternoon.


Maybe NEXT summer.



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