The War

We have entered the last and worst realm of what I now refer to as self-inflicted toddler H-E-double-hockey-sticks (second only to breastfeeding/weaning and sleep training): 

Potty Training.

And because of Luke's personality (and mine), and the success my cousin Janessa has had using this method, we decided it would be best to cut diapers cold turkey and never look back. Luke is just the type of smart, stinker-like toddler to say, "Oh, I can wear diapers when I sleep? Well, I'm just going to wear them forever, thank you very much," And I decided long ago that two kids in diapers was going to be a no-go for me. So to avoid training too close to the baby to have regression issues and hopefully to avoid active training during the bulk of the holidays, I changed my last Luke-produced poopy diaper on the night of November 2nd. 

So far the results have been promising! After several small accidents in the morning two days ago, we did get some pee in the potty, and I was rewarded with Luke running towards me mid-morning frantically yelling, "Gotta go poopoo!" and a successful bowel movement in the toilet shortly after that. He also woke up dry from his nap yesterday and developed some really obvious dancing and frantic crotch-grabbing signs that helped me haul him to the potty more often than not (only one accident inside, the rest out on our balcony). This morning he woke up dry and immediately went potty when we put him on the toilet, which was just the encouragement that mama needed to keep it up. He is always very proud of his accomplishments, and this is no exception. Hopefully we make it out with minimal emotional scarring, on both sides. Honestly, "losing the battle but winning the war" has got to be a reference to potty training. 

Yes, I totally blurred the penis. I wonder how much he will hate me for putting this on the internet.