We had several weeks accident free. I stopped buying Preschooler D underwear every time I went to Target -- because you know and I know, some accidents are not worth the clean up. The past couple of days, though . . . I don't know. It feels like we're sort of back at the beginning.
"Do you need to go potty?"
"Do you need to go potty?"
"I think you should try and go potty."
"I'll wait for you."
"Why don't you just try."
"Let's try." (As though we are going to do it together.)
"Just try."
"Just try for me."
"Are you sure?"
"Don't you want to check?"
"Just check."
"Just try and check."
It's exhausting. About two seconds after I give up, he grabs the nether regions and screams in a high squeaky voice, "Potty! Potty! Potty!"
"YES! GO! GO! GO!"
This is my brilliant son. This is my child who, at four and a half, can read anything he looks at. This is my future rocket scientist. (Is this still the highest degree of smart? Rocket Scientist?) And yet, complete mastery of the bathroom eludes him.
What would Mother Einstein have done?
