The nearly two year old, Natey Noodle, is potty training. At least he would be potty training, if it were up to me. But he's a strong willed little chap and, as it turns out, it's actually entirely up to him.
Nate's not a fan of the potty. He instead favours the running-around-naked-hoping-to-make-it-to-the-toilet-in-time method of training. And it was in this state that he announced to me earlier that he "had poo Mummy" as he ran passed me on his way to the bathroom. I followed in hot pursuit, and after much wriggling and some distraction ("look, my shampoo") we eventually scored with a peanut sized deposit in the bowl.
Yay Natey! Such a big achievement, Mummy's so proud.
Except ten minutes later I discover him in the kitchen, trying to use my broom to sweep up the remainder of what turned out to be, just the opening performance so to speak. The tip of the poo iceberg. It wasn't such a big achievement after all. At least, not in comparison to the pile of poo that he was merrily pushing around the kitchen floor.
He's had a bath. I've mopped and disinfected the floor. The broom's soaking in bleach. He has his nappy back on. Bless him for realising that pooing on the kitchen floor wasn't quite right, and trying to clean up for me but ... that's enough training for today methinks.
You know that three second rule that applies when you drop food on the floor? It doesn't apply in my kitchen.
|Natey Noodle. Cute, undeniably. But he might poo on your floor.|
And then offer to help you clean it up ...