Someone is OFFICIALLY POTTY TRAINED! (ish.)
I literally (don't you hate how overused that word is. I literally can't even...) sat down to write this week's Mom.me post about Bo's RED LETTER WEEK of potty pooping (at home! not in a gas station!) and I AM NOT EVEN KIDDING, before I could even finish the title (which was originally, "One Down, One to Go") Revi asked for a diaper to poop in and then Bo insisted on joining her. With a diaper. To poop in.
"But Bo! The last six days you have pooped SOLELY on the potty!"
"Yes I know but I want a diaper like Revi!"
"BUT WHY! THAT
"Huh? What ship? What do you mean?"
I wanted to cry. And then... I handed her the diaper.
And perhaps she will.
But let's back up...
Earlier this week, out of complete nowhere Bo told me she was done with diapers.
"Awesome! I'm so glad to hear that! I am so proud of you!" said I. We high fived. And then we high tenned. And then we put on blonde wigs, matching bodysuits, and danced around the house.
And then... sure enough, several hours later, Bo screamed from the bathroom the words that every parent longs to hear... "MAMA! I POOPED ON THE POTTY COME SEE MY POOP! POOOOOOOOOP!"
And she did. She pooped. It was glorious. We high fived yet again. And then we high-tenned and then we called for Revi who came running. And oh how we jumped. Up and down and all around and then, in all our excitement I was, like, "Revi's turn!" and the record IMMEDIATELY stopped and Revi, with the most serious face of all time, turned to me and said "NO."
"But! Bo just pooped on the potty and look how stoked we all are! Don't you want to join her."
"Wait. What do you mean?"
"I am going to poop in a diaper until I'm five!" Revi growled, crossing her arms across her chest and storming off down the hall.
And Revi was PISSED. And hurt. And... I suddenly felt sad. And bad. And a little bit rad. (I was still riding the "my kid just pooped on the potty" high after all.)
You can read the rest of the post, here and may the force be with us all...