Two days ago, a friend dropped off her 3-year-old girl for a few hours to play while she ran to a morning meeting. I was ecstatic. The boys’ bedroom needed some serious attention, and I could get it in better shape if Cameron was distracted by a friend. It worked. And apparently, his observation skills were in overdrive too. You see, she’s in the middle of being potty trained right now, and I was in the bathroom with her 3 times in the space of three hours. Two were false alarms.
As I was hoovering up the massacred juggling ball (I’ve had since I was 19) that he ripped open with his teeth and spilled the beans everywhere, a miracle occurred: He peed on his potty. By himself. And I missed it. I was a mere 6 feet away. Wow, I was ecstatic. We mentioned it for hours. We told Daddy. We clapped and jumped. We sang a song.
It was a fluke, but a great fluke nonetheless.
I’ve had that potty sitting in their bathroom for the past 6 months, just so it’s always in his line of vision. He’s never really shown much interest in it, but I’m not too concerned, boys are harder to train. (Do they ever fully train anyway?)
I held him on a pedestal like a prodigy.
Until yesterday. Yesterday, the planets realigned while I was drying my hair.
He climbed up on my bed and onto the headboard. Behind the headboard on one of the window sills were my old standby glasses. He found them.
Life has returned to normal. The other lens, incidentally, was found on location at a second site twenty minutes later. Now, if I ever need glasses, I have a good excuse to get new ones.
Butter wouldn’t melt….