P(ooping). S.

Collin has refused, flat out refused, to go to bed for bed or for nap, lately without pooping....wait for it...that's right, in the freaking potty! What the heck? Grumble, grumble, groan. Grrrrrrr.

Yeah, so now he's taken to announcing all of his bodily functions, including but not limited to, farting. He'll stop dead in his tracks, grunt, then yell, "FART!" It's lovely, really. If only you could see it. It's especially endearing when he grips the sides of the couch or the coffee table, as if he's got to brace himself for the "biggie," and then sucks in his breath like it's going to be a whopper, then he lets go and looks at you like "phew, false alarm," and says "FART!" as if to say, "thank goodness I didn't crap myself."

So yeah, he's decided that pooping in the potty is much more comfy then. Peeing, hmmmm we'll get to that later, I suppose. Whatever. He's a strange duck. No one ever doubted that for a minute. So, the last two days have been poop in the potty but pee in the pants...and of course, farts in the pants!

I've thrown my hands up and decided to just let it happen. He poops in the potty, okay. He pees in the potty, okay. He needs to drag his potty chair down the aisle with him on his wedding day, okay. Whatever. It's all good with me. I'm zen with it all :)