This morning I stepped in it, literally. First, let's backtrack six months. Sammy Rose decided she wanted to use the potty. After a tough first go at it she was off and running. I thought this is it! God is rewarding me for working so hard with the other two to get them potty trained that Sammy is going to be a breeze to potty train. Until recently she really was a breeze.
Houston, we have a problem. Sammy has gone on potty strike. She insists on still wearing underwear but will not use the toilet. At first I calmly rationalized in my head, 'this is a regression, it always happens when they are about to have a breakthrought.' This thought will only keep you going for a week, and then you get pretty sick of washing tiny underpants.
This morning I was getting ready in my bathroom and Sammy runs in buck naked, "I pooped!"
"Yay! Did you poop on the potty?" silly question I know, but had to ask.
"yes, come look" I follow her tiny buns to the bathroom.
"oh gross!" Sammy declares. I look in to see the horrific scene. I will not leave you in suspense, the poop did not make it into the potty. Instead I see a dirty pair of tiny undies on the floor and the dog is licking his lips. Yes, the dog ate the poop. I guess if I am going to stay positive about things, that is one less thing I have to clean up. I do however make a mental note, no snuggling with the dog for a couple days.
I pick up the underwear and take them to the laundry room where I grab some socks for the day. I lift up my foot to put on my sock, and there it is, a tiny turd on the bottom of my foot. My dry heaving starts to scare Sammy. I am left paralized trying to think of the best way to sterilize myself.
Eventually I make it to the bathroom and as I am cleaning myself up, I declare Sammy is going back to diapers.
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