(Note to self: delete this post when Asher starts school. This is really not the kind of story he will want his friends to google and find. Also, a note to readers: I'm so not comfortable with this subject. It may honestly be easier for me to discuss s-x than poop. On second thought, probably not. I don't really want to discuss either of them with you.
However, we're moving into the world of potty training around here. Asher is diving headlong into the next developmental stage, dragging me behind him. I'm all for him becoming a Big Boy. But I've potty trained a child before, and I'm DREADING this. It seems my little boy is determined, though, and who am I to stand in the way of progress? So I may as well get used to discussing Bathroom Things, because Lord knows I'm about to be spending plenty of time there. So, here we go - Bathroom Story #1 - because I don't ever want to forget it. Not that my family would let me.)
If you're already undressed, you may as well go to the potty. That's Asher's logic, anyway, as lately he has been asking to sit on the potty like a Big Boy every time he changes his clothes (a side note - I'm almost positive he wants to be potty trained so that he can drive a crane. My son's life ambition is to work in construction. Every time we drive past the cranes parked close to his grandmother's house, he says, "I get big I drive a CRAAAANE, right Mama?" and I agree that yes, when he grows up he can drive a crane. I think he thinks being a Big Boy and using the potty qualifies him to operate heavy machinery, and I just don't have the heart to tell him otherwise). So yesterday we were getting ready to ride the boat at my parents' house, and because he was already undressed, I asked him if he wanted to sit on the potty. He agreed enthusiastically. So we trot off to my mother's bathroom (which is - I kid you not - bigger than Silas's bedroom) and Asher does his business.
I feign enthusiasm, because this is what we do to teach our children that going tee-tee in the potty is Good. Forgetting for a moment how literal two-year-olds are, I ask him, "Do you want to go tell Big Daddy what you did?" He grinned and ran into the living room, where my entire family - my parents, Brian's parents, my sister and her boyfriend, and a friend of ours from church - were sitting. Here Asher, in all of his glory, announces, "I sat on the pot in Big Daddy's bathroom and tee-tee came out of his hole right here." Then he showed them, in case they weren't clear.
I guess we'll work on dignity when he's three.