The biggest news is that Mum has decided to start the potty training process with Little Bear. He's ready, physically, in the sense that he has shown the ability to wake up from a nap dry and to go an hour or two in a diaper without dirtying it up. So, on Friday, she started the difficult and labor-intensive process of potty training a preverbal toddler. Basically, she ran him to the potty every 20 minutes and when he started squirming or grabbing at himself. The first day, much more miss than hit; second day was better; third day, yesterday, had no pee accidents at all. He's reticent about pooping on the potty, as are many children. Not too much of a big deal; it's not like we've got to deal with explosive chemo-poo or antibiotic-poo like we did with The Boy. Her general feelings on the matter were that she would rather deal with an infant and a potty-training toddler than try to train him when the new baby is mobile and curious. We had to wait with The Boy, for treatment-related reasons: chemo-pee during Diaper Hell time (that 24 hour period post-chemo when his body was peeing out the medication) could have seriously injured all of us.
I'm easy, I guess. I don't really have his signals matched up very well yet, and he's not really comfortable enough to use the potty for me, but give it time. It'll get there, particularly the longer he's doing it with me as a host. It's a little frightening how quickly he's taking to it. Put one in the win column for my wife, who again surprises and delights me with her ideas and work ethic. I married above my head, for sure.
Our anniversary went past, last week, the day after Little Bear's birthday party. We went out to dinner and discussed baby names. Not sure what we are going to call the little man yet. Hey, You! is definitely an option that is on the table. Seven years of marriage have passed; the first four in a flash, the last three in a slow, laborious process - not because of us, because of cancer.
The other excitement was that Grandpa and Mum took the boys to an outdoor concert, and The Boy escaped from custody and went wandering (the Wandering Jew strikes again). After interrupting the concert for help, they discovered that about 50 people at the show knew who he was, so a massive boy hunt happened. They found him splashing and swimming the fountain at the park. Good front? He had taken his shoes and socks off before he went swimming. Bad front? Still had his hearing aids on. Sigh. Now it is funny; not so much at the time.
Well, The Boy and I are going to Point State Park for fireworks tonight. Grandpa might or might not come. It will be fun, for sure.
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