Who Does Number Two Work For?!

Up until recently, Beth and I were sure that we had this whole parenting thing down. We've mastered the art of getting Lucas to - happily! - climb into bed and go to sleep. We've made the Time Out and the "I'm gonna count to THREE..." speech the fairly effective cornerstones of our Bad Boy Management program. He eats carrots AND asparagus! And - once - broccoli!

One challenge remains. And it's a doozy. More accurately, a doody.

We entered potty training with high hopes. Lucas was pretty curious about the toilet, and liked to take a ringside seat every time I went to take a leak. A bit unnerving, having an audience, but we figured that if he watched Daddy use the can, he'd want to do it himself. That turned out to be true - within a few weeks, he'd calmly tell us, "I hafta peep" (peep, that was the exact word) and we'd walk into the bathroom, he'd drop trou and dipe, climb up on the Big Boy Potty, and pee like a pro. (Well, as he pees sitting down because he's not tall enough to do it standing up, a WNBA pro.) He no longer pees in his pants. At all. Even at night. Excellent.

Trouble is, he's yet to master the other half of the Elimination Equation.

We've tried everything. Incentives - a piece of candy if he sits on the potty and poops. Logic - "Lucas, do you go pee-pee in your pants?" "Noooooo." "Then do you go poop in your pants?" "Um - nooooooo." "Ok then!" "Daddy?" "Yes, Lucas?" "I pooped in my pants." Nothing seems to be working.  You'd think that he'd want to take a dump in the toilet rather than in his underwear - we're phasing him out of pullups, thinking that will help. Nope.

I was about to type something along the lines of "I know that he'll figure it out at some point. Any suggestions you all have would be greatly appreciated." But just now, Lucas emerged from the back of the house to inform us that "Mick drank the water from the potty, and I got the water from the potty on my hand and drank it too."

Sigh.