I have to say something here totally unrelated to adoption. When I put O in his room for quiet time today (he doesn’t have to sleep, but he has to play or read quietly in his bed), I tell him what Hunky and I always tell him: if you need to go to the potty, get out of your bed, open your door, and yell downstairs to me that you need to go to the potty…or you can use the little potty in your room. Then I take him to the bathroom before quiet time to reduce the chance that he’ll need to go for the next couple of hours. So while I’m putting Y down for a nap, I hear O saying something in his room over and over, but quietly. I figure he’s just talking to himself. After Y is asleep, I listen at O’s door, and realize he’s saying “I need to go to the potty, I need to go to the potty” over and over again. So I open his door and ask him if he needs to go to the bathroom. Yes, he needs to poop, he says. So we go. And then I figure that he’s gotta be set for 2 hours at least, since he’s now gone to the bathroom twice in the last 20 minutes. BUT…I tell him the mantra again – if you need to go to the potty, get out of bed, yada yada. So when I heard him yelling before, I figure he’s just messing around (since this is only 30 minutes since quiet time started), but I also figure that if he keeps yelling “mommy!!!mommy!!!” at the top of his lungs for very much longer, he’s gonna wake Y up, and Y without enough napping does not make for a pleasant afternoon at home. So I go up there. He tells me what sounds like “I need swords”. So I go and get him one of his pretend swords, and he says “no, swords”. And I say “listen buster, you’ll be happy with this sword, ’cause i’m not going downstairs to get the other one”, and he says, “no, mommy, I need SHORTS, like PANTS”. And I look. And yes, he has wet his pants. And the bed. And his pillow. “RRRRARRRRR” I say, “I AM VERY ANGRY. WHY DIDN’T YOU GET OUT OF YOUR BED TO GO TO THE POTTY?” And then he says “I’m really sorry” in a really really pitiful voice.
Apparently my son drank about a gallon of liquid at preschool today.
You know, I used to secretly gloat a little on the inside, when my friends would tell me about their kids’ not staying in their beds for naps and in the mornings. I would think, wow, we must be doing something right, ’cause O never gets out of his bed without us coming to get him. Well, laugh it up, ya’ll, because the rooster has come home to roost. This kid, at 3 years old, will not get out of his bed without us coming in to get him. And while this means that he’s not destroying the house at 6 in the morning while we peacefully sleep (we leave that job to Kodi – aka, the dirty diaper destroyer), it also means I change a lot of sheets. And I hate changing sheets.
Oh, and all of O’s yelling did wake Y up. So the gender post will have to wait.