Today was a rather exciting day in my world of parenting. In trying to be a good mother I sometimes use creative parenting. Today came the pinnacle of creative ideas.
My son was fully potty trained for months, he was easy to train and we had relatively no issues with his potty habits. 4 months ago in an effort to assist in the household running smoothly and in wanting to make moms life a little easier my son decided he didn’t want to be potty trained anymore. How kind and thoughtful of him! Imagine the joy I experienced in washing out grown man size feces from my little boys red baseball underwear.
I’m quite the party pooper in matters of this sort and in an effort to help my son achieve success in bowl displacement I tried everything. I mean everything. Nothing has convinced him that using a toilet is more fun then watching mommy scrape ripe gotchie gifts from his favourite race car under garments.
A few days ago I started toying with the idea of reverting him back to a baby.
After one to many sphincter retraction mishaps I warmed up to the idea and decided to give it a try.
Mommy, “Nixon you seem to enjoy pooping your pants like a baby, do you want to be a baby?”
Nixon, “No”.
Mommy, “well if you continue to act like a baby with your bathroom habits I’ll have to start treating you like a baby”.
Nix, “I’m a big boy, no more pooping in my underwear, I’ll poop in the toilet”.
I reveled in my great parenting skills and felt like a good mom and like I had done a good job solving this issue.
The next day another underwear mishap, okay Nix, I’ll give you grace, don’t let it happen again.
The next day, same thing. We have the whole baby talk again and he once again declares in a loud strong voice that he is a big boy and he’ll use the toilet next time.
Next day same thing. I remind Nixon that in being a baby he will have to eat baby food and sleep in a crib.
Day 4 arrives with another excrement package for this mama bear. Okay, time for creative parenting.
“Nixon, I see you’ve decided your breakfast of champions this morning will be a jar of baby food.”
Now at first I felt bad, I wouldn’t want to eat baby food, but then again I use the toilet so its my privilege to eat yummy food. I had already given a gazillion chances so I stood strong. I offered a choice of baby food, after all I’m not a monster. But the choice wasn’t delicious strawberry or raspberry apple, his delightful options were chicken & vegetable or peas and carrots. Peas are Nixon’s nemesis so naturally he went for the scrumptious choice of chicken & veggie. In my kindness I heated it and added a touch of salt to try to make it edible. I taste tested a miniscule amount and barfed. It was much worse then I imagined. I for one will no longer be feeding my poor 7 month old jarred baby food. Gross. Anyway, I strapped my self described “Big Boy” into the high chair and gave him his first bite. You should have seen his face. It was awfully wonderful. I have to be honest, I laughed hysterically on the inside half way through the jar. Sometimes I couldn’t hide my sheer joy, so I had to turn away and hide my face. I don’t think he figured out that my body convulsing in silence was me laughing on the inside.
My poor boy choked down most of the jar and upon completion once again declared he will be using the toilet from this point on.
Here’s to hoping…
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