Self-cleaning

Last week I wondered if it was time to teach Sam how to wipe himself after going potty.

My mind raced through the likely scenarios:

Maybe he would refuse.

Maybe he would play in it.

Maybe he would try really hard but still get poo all over his fingers.

I decided it wasn't time.

But that day or the next day, a solo trip to the potty was taking a ridiculous amount of time. I heard a flush. "Are you done?" I called up the stairs. 

"Yes!" Sam said.

"Did you pee pee or poo poo?" I asked.

"I pee-peed AND poo-pooed!" he said.

I marched up the stairs, ready to wipe.

I found nothing on his rear. Checking the toilet, I saw no poop. I remembered hearing the flush. Concern grew over what he had flushed.

"I thought you said you pooped," I said. Worried.

"I did," Sam replied."And I wiped myself."

With only the slightest trace of poop found during my follow-up wipe, I was amazed. His bum was clean. His hands were clean. He was so proud of himself. And I was so proud of him!

He's wiped himself ever since - with varying degrees of success. There's no turning back now...and you can guess how OK I am with that. :)

Airing of grievances

Sam leaned too hard on his green balloon this evening and it popped.

It was devastating.

In full despair, Sam declared he loved that balloon and no longer wanted any bright green balloons. They were forever ruined for him.

Just then, Natalie climbed off my lap and onto the dinner table. 

"Does it make you feel better to see your sister on the table, shaking a baggie at you?" I asked.

"No," he grunted.

"Does it make you feel better to remember that on our walk today, you got to poke a stick into some poop?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "A little bit."

Anti-Quiche Establishment

There's a stark divide in this house and it centers around QUICHE. 

I have always loved quiche and cannot fathom why any palate would find it unappealing. But I married a man who dislikes quiche and our son has inherited his poor taste.

Precious daughter, however, is a big fan. So pllllllllbbbbttttt.

I made a quiche yesterday and have been enjoying it since. 

Tonight I was cuddling with Sam and we discussed quiche.

Me: Tomorrow you can have quiche for breakfast.

Sam: Tomorrow I may not get hungry.

Point to the tiny person for his humor.

Point to mom, who gets to finish the quiche (though hungry baby will need some too).