And now X-Man is wearing underpants. He is sitting in my lap, snuffling and wiping away tears. Although I have purchased him Lightening McQueen underpants, Mike Wazowski underpants, Angry Birds underpants. I have searched for different styles of underpants....do you know how hard it is to find toddler boxer/briefs? They don't make boxers for three year olds. At all. I bought him underpants with Minions on them. He was thrilled. He clutched them for two days straight, but they were not to leave his hands.
Not that diapers would make it any better. He reacts just the same, possibly even more hysterically, and will run for the bathroom as if to point out that he is beyond diapers.
No, the only acceptable alternative is to go commando. That's what the boy wants. It's my fault really. I created the monster. Taking a page out of my previous potty training success manual, I let the boy run naked about the house. The result was a fairly well trained boy within 24 hours. After a couple more days, I put underwear on him....with great fanfare. His response was to soil them nearly instantaneously. I removed them and he ran free, remaining accident free as well. So......I let him.
The father figure objected, I pointed out the success of the sans trouser approach and he conceded. That is, until he observed his spare heir dragging his bare buns across the dining room table. The father figure put his foot down and demanded that we gird his loins. I countered that he was free to gird all the loins he wanted but I would be taking only a supporting role. Shortly thereafter I encountered an X-Man sans briefs running the halls.
As much as I enjoyed not having to clean up after the boy, things came to a critical mass after my son greeted the UPS man with a full display of the family jewels.
So he's been "mando'd up". It's been messy. This isn't a battle of wills I was prepared for. But that's life with X-Man.
No comments:
Post a Comment