It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times

It is seriously exciting to see one’s toddler dash to the bathroom, knocking over chairs and stepping on pets in the process, so that he can (hopefully) pull down his pants, climb up onto the toilet and go potty all by himself. The road to successful potty training has been hard and long, but we have almost made it.

Last week he decided to take his liberation from diapers to a new level when he shooed me from the bathroom with, “No, Mommy, go out,” and closed the door in my face. This makes me a little uncomfortable as I recently walked in on him trying to wring the roll of toilet paper out over the toilet bowl after it had fallen in or been thrown in.

Now comes the fun of public restrooms- the germiest places on earth. Teaching a child that there are certain places that are inappropriate to explore with his hands is always a challenge. I’m pretty sure the person in the stall next to us will be convinced of my senility after listening to me half-shriek half-cry instructions: “put both of your hands on my leg so that you don’t touch anything else” “don’t rub your eyes” “take your hands off of the toilet seat!” God help me.