WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS ANECDOTAL INFORMATION ABOUT POTTY TRAINING. WALK AWAY IF YOU CAN FEEL YOUR EYES STARTING TO ROLL.
If you've talked with me in the past 6 or 7 months, you've no doubt been tortured by my laments over Eli's lack of potty training. I've been the parent who, honestly, has waited until Eli appeared interested to use the potty. Lazy? Maybe. But the way I looked at it is that I wasn't going to force potty training and then have to spend a year or more fighting with him to use the potty. And if you've met my son, you know those fights would have been super fun. They would have probably ended with me dead. And, like my mama always says, "he ain't gonna start kindergarten wearing a diaper." (her speech is actually more refined than that, but I find hillbilly talk to be more humorous.)
So, we've waited and waited and prayed and waited some more and prodded and suggested and bribed and cried and prayed some more and made a virgin sacrifice to the potty gods and cried some more. Then my brilliant husband (who should be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for Potty Training) bought him an Elmo potty video (Eli's very visual). And then he wanted to do it. That Elmo is a freaking mind manipulator. I made a sticker chart that would allow him to essentially pee for a prize every five successful attempts (coming to a carnival near you). And now he just....goes to the potty.
I should clarify that he goes #1 with ease; the deuce has yet to be dropped. Which means this potty story is TO BE CONTINUED...