Robbie had been calling my name for at least fifteen minutes when I finally went upstairs to investigate. After all, I am trying to get packed for my solo trip to Miami tomorrow and leave the house reasonably clean for Justin and take a shower and, at some point, eat dinner. You could imagine my surprise when I got to the top of the stairs and saw Robbie’s diaper, pajama top, and pajama bottom littering the floor. I went into his bedroom to find my darling child buck naked, holding himself, dancing, and crying, “QiQi peepee potty, Mama!” His voice grew increasingly panicked as he repeated himself.
Not wanting to risk missing the toilet, I grabbed the naked toddler and ran downstairs. He flew threw the bathroom, right to the toilet. Where he sat for the next fifteen minutes. I read him a book. He played with toy binoculars. He ran water in the sink. And then he did it. He used the potty! I know… He’s done it before. It’s the next part that you’re really going to like.
He told me he had to go again. Now, I know how the body works. Once you’ve gone, you’re good for a while. So, I tried to impart this wisdom on Robbie. Well, the best I could to a two-year-old. I dressed him in his Pull-Ups (since he’s refusing to wear diapers to bed as of tonight – he tore his off three times) and red moose pajamas, set the tent back up in his crib, and put him to bed. I ventured back downstairs to finish packing and, hopefully, eat dinner.
Five minutes later, there were panicked cries coming from Robbie’s room again. After trying to assure him that he did not have to use the potty again, I went upstairs to find him stripped down once again. In order to ease his mind, I took him to the bathroom again. And. He. Actually. Had. To. Go. Again.
And so I taught Robbie to say, “I know my body!” Because he does.