Child, if you are articulate enough to tell me in plain English that you are having an issue with your diaper, you are TOO OLD to be wearing one.
When I write a parenting book, my chapter on toilet training is going to go something like this:
"Remember how you were told that its best to let your child decide when its time to potty-train? THAT'S WRONG. Kids don't know anything. That's why they eat stuff they find in the gutter."
Starting next week, we're getting serious about ditching the diaper.
No - wait - scratch that. Next week won't work. I have two weddings, and there's no way that Tyler (blesshisheart) can be trusted to enforce the rigid, Nazi-like potty schedule that leads to eventual underwear freedom. I guess starting next, NEXT week, we'll be getting serious. Serious-er than I've been able to be this summer, anyway. Any suggestions? Bribes, rewards, charts, and stickers have so far proven to be completely useless and have yielded little more than wasted money, spoiled appetites, and Hot Wheel-induced foot-pad bruises.
I bought a box of 108 diapers from Target today. I'm going to go out on a limb and pledge that it will be my last purchase of diapers for this child. (Pull-ups don't count, though. I'll be darned if this boy thinks I'm going to get up in the middle of the night to change wet sheets.) With the extra $25 I'll be saving each month, I will buy chocolate milk. Lots and lots of chocolate milk. Because after potty-training "Stubborn Sam," by golly, I am going to deserve it.
Photo credit: Target. Not my kid. But the resemblance is amazing...huh?
I'm in search of a dress for a certain family wedding coming up soon. If I can swing it, I'll be attending the 