“Would you like some chocolate milk?”, I asked Buzz, fully acknowledging it as a bribe.
He wasn’t taking the bait, however. “Go poopie!”
Here I am, running a mommyblog and posting about poop. Which I actually try to avoid. Though this isn’t about the act itself, but my son’s insistence that he must go when he clearly doesn’t have to. Because I’ve spent more time waiting at the bathroom door this past week than Arnold Schwarzenegger’s spent with his housekeeper. And we all know what happened there.
“How about a movie? Do you want to watch a movie?”, it’s an honest attempt, though not enough to alter his position.
“We’ve just been in there for an hour. That’s a good boy going on the potty, but there’s no need to stay in there for so long. You do your thing, you come out. You do not go in, play for an hour, then go back in 5 minutes later. No one needs to spend that much time in the bathroom. Unless you’re Mommy and it’s the only chance you have for a break.”, I try my best to calmly explain.
“Go poopie! Go poopie! Go poooopie!”, morphing into an anthem.
Like every instance before, I oblige his need for the bathroom, just in case. After 20 minutes with nothing to show for it, I say enough, time to come out. I even offer up a pony. Buzz, however, is indignant.
“No! GO POOPIE!”
I thought having the kid out of diapers was supposed to be easier.