P is for progress

Charlie woke up at 5:22 this morning, jibber-jabbering away.

As I pulled him out of the crib, he wiggled out of my arms and ran to the bathroom like a man on a mission.

When we got there, I was shocked to see him pointing at the potty chair. (He had found it and seemed interested so I figured it couldn't hurt to let him get familiar with it.)

I asked him, "Do you want to use the potty?"

He nodded and helped me take off his pajama pants and diaper.

Then he proceeded to pee all over the floor about a foot from the potty chair.

But that's progress, right?

Last week I issued a decree to Scott and Will that they need to sit down to go whenever Charlie is around.

As the person who has to clean the floors and walls near the toilet, I felt it was well within my rights to make such a declaration.

That hasn't happened, of course. My decrees generally don't amount to a hill of beans.

But, I'm encouraged.

We've been up for about an hour now and Charlie just brought me a diaper and a changing pad. Cool.

On a hunch, I gave him the rolled up dirty diaper and asked if he could throw it away. After some narrowly-missed detours, he tossed it in and ran back to me for a celebratory hug.

I think it's going to be a good day.