Saturday, December 15, 2007


I'm not using that word as a euphemism for something else, I'm talking about the bad brown stuff, so if you're squeamish, don't read on.

Wendy and I are sitting on the couch watching some of the 2nd season of Lost, when I say something to Wendy about how much it's starting to smell in the apartment. We start to investigate, and I go into Connor's room to check if he went in his pants. Before I even bother checking him, I can see it smeared on their little blue table. Oh...and it's in Connor's underwear too. We immediately get him into the bathroom and start a bath. Since he admits he was using his hands to "play" with it, I start getting him cleaned up while Wendy cleans up the room.

Alas, poor Rusty (one of Connor's Thomas the Train trains) is a fatal casualty that goes to the trash, despite Bubba's protests. Since he hadn't had a nap today anyways, we decide we'll do the early bed time thing.

Pretty yucky, but Wendy says she's seen worse, so I'm not to make to big of a deal out of it, I guess.
Lessee....Connor's been working on potty-training for about 4 months now....and there is no end in sight with the difficulties. The other day I asked him why he went pee-pee in his pants instead of the potty, and he said "Cause I'm playing" he just doesn't want to stop playing to bother going to the bathroom. We've tried the whole "babies go in diapers, big boys go in the potty" argument with him, but that hasn't sunk in yet.