Another Milestone.

It is no secret that my older boy, about to turn 4 is a smart kid. He knew his ABC's visually and orally, and could count to 10 in two languages at the tender age of 18 months. I was so proud of him.

Josh excelled at everything we threw at him be it language, motor skills, reasoning, dressing himself, you name it. Except for one thing, pooping on the potty. Josh learned right away how to go pee pee and was good at it. Lesson learned, end of story. I was quite pleased. But he would not for the life of me go to the toilet to do number 2. I would have him sit on the pot and coax, threaten,  and ultimately bribe him to go. No way, no how. He would sit there and look at me and whine that he could not. I would ignore his protest and chant, "Poop, poop, poop!" like it was a mantra. I could not believe my little prodigy could not "make" like the other little urchins who had it mastered a year before.

I read articles I talked to other parents. They said that he would  follow his own schedule and not to worry. Well I worried. I encouraged, I argued. I let him know that if he cannot go like the other kids he would not be allowed in preschool, something he wants pretty bad now. I tried explaining that if I had to buy less diapers it might increase his chances of getting a cool toy. I tried reasoning with him about long term consequences such as how his prom tux wont fit right over his pull ups. He was not giving in. I finally surrendered.

A few months passed and I decided to have another talk with the boy. I asked him to try again. He decided to give it a go and sat down. He asked me to give him privacy and a few minutes later YAHTZEE!!! He was grinning ear to ear, and I was ecstatic. I told him how proud I was, and we made a big deal over it. I hugged him and gave him a treat, and would have taken a picture, but his mommy drew the line at that. I guess she did not want me Face Booking that sort of image. Oh and I would have too. Some of you may remember how I announced the pregnancy with Josh as a single picture of the positive E.P.T. device. no words, just the picture.

Since then he has done great. I keep making sure to tell him how proud he makes me cause he can poop in the toilet now. 

Life moved on.

A few weeks have gone by. I have been stricken with the local crud that is going around. What is it about mid January anyway? The holidays came and went with no real illness. The new year arrives and everything looks great. Then the whole office get sick. It always starts with one person too. The one that refuses to work at home when they are sick, because it somehow seems reasonable to come and infect the whole office. I hate those people, mostly cause they always insist they are not contagious, then the next day everyone else gets the flu. A couple of days pass by and I am really feeling poorly. I am running to the bathroom a lot, sneezing, achy, and runny nose. I finally took a day off from work just to sleep. I made it to the bed, but as it turns out, I would have gotten more peace and quiet at the office. Every time I started to drift off to sleep one of the kids would come in the room wanting me to read a story, or buy them a pet elephant or get them some ice cream from Dairy Queen. Never mind that every time I got up, I ended up racing to the bathroom to puke or have another bout of diarrhea. I finally closed the door and lay down. As soon as I drifted off, bam, Bam, BAM! on the door. I moaned, "What NOW?" Josh barked back through the door, "Daddy, I want to tell you sumpthin." I slowly get up and limp to the door. " What is it boy?" Josh is standing there with a loving look, and says "Daddy, I am so proud of you for pooping in the toilet!" Me; "Don't be so sure kid."

Well, what was I supposed to say?