Big Boy Stuff

There comes a time in every toddler's life when "being a big boy" becomes the exclusive goal of his entire existence.  Correspondingly, there comes a time in every parent's life when "being a big boy" can be shamelessly used to induce just about any desirable behavior imaginable.

Want to be a big boy?  Better eat all that broccoli.  Want to be a big boy?  Put on your hat and mittens.  Want to be a big boy?  Here, why don't you make Mommy's bed, put away all her laundry, pay the bills, and take out the trash.  Please and thank you.

Never one to miss an opportunity, Owen also uses his new Big Boy status to his own advantage.  After unabashedly stealing and eating all of Eliza's dinner one night, he announced: "I eat Ewiza's food because I'm a big boy and Ewiza is a baby."  When Eliza needed to be put down for a nap, he justified trying to pick her up by saying:  "I will put Ewiza down for sleep because I'm a big boy."

But perhaps the single greatest "big boy" move came a week ago.  Assured that toilets represent the holy grail of Big Boyhood, Owen officially decided to join civilized society and shun his Pampers.  The mythical End of Diapers.  (For at least one butt, anyway.)

We are, of course, so excited and proud of him, but this is an adventure for which I wasn't quite mentally prepared.  Turns out little bladders are very high maintenance.  And pairing public restrooms with little hands that touch indiscriminately makes for a special kind of a nightmare.

So far (knock on wood), Owen's only had one accident.  But it was the kind of accident that reminded me not to get comfortable too fast.  Feeding Eliza before bed, home for the third night in a row by myself, exhausted, I heard Owen yell to me from the bathroom in a most surprised voice:

"Mommy! There's a POOP on the floor!!"

In his efforts to position his little step stool (no pun intended) just so, he told me that the "poopy fell out of my bumbum."  The tired part of me wanted to cry.  But every other part of me couldn't help laughing defeatedly as I scraped poop off the tile floor.

The next morning, Owen wanted to rehash The Incident.  "Mommy, you 'member when I pooped on the floor?  You 'member that?"

Laughing, I said "Yes, baby, I remember that."

Smiling, he replied, "Was that silly?"

Yes, sweet boy.  It was so, so silly.