Turns Out, Batman Trumps Mickey Mouse

Because parenting is really only a “wait a second and this will change” kind of thing, here’s the latest in my little land of potty training.  You may have read that using the power of Superheros seemed like a good way to jump start my 3 year old’s potty training process.  (The Power of Superhero Underwear) Now it’s time for the update.  Seasoned potty veterans probably know what is coming after the jump.

Monday’s Batman underwear day was a good day for all.  However, that day did come to an end.  Tuesday dawned, came, and went, but there were no pooping productions.  For a mom waiting with baited breath for her son’s bowel movements, it was a day of tension, to be sure.  Then Wednesday came and this mom was waiting for a veritable shit storm, let me tell you.

All day long I’d holler out, “Do you need to poop? You don’t want me to have to throw away those Mickey Mouse underwear!”  And all day long his answer was “nope!”  Before breakfast, after breakfast, in the middle of a crowded shopping center, it didn’t matter.  This mom was on top of things.  Not more than 10 minutes passed between one query and the next, but his answer remained the same.

After dinner, I started to worry.  Had he eaten Legos or something?  Did he have blockage of the bowel?  Would we be hurtling the mom-van to the ER in the wee hours for surgery?  Would I be summoned to his Senior Prom to help empty a colostomy bag?  My active mind whirled.  With a tremor in my voice, I called out to him “do you need to go poop?  Don’t wait too long or we’ll have a tragedy in your pants!”  By now he sounded a bit exasperated as he assured me that all was well with his little world.  However, not 5 minutes passed and I heard, “Mom, I’m poopy.”

Okay, there are lots of times as a parent that you have to make a quick decision.  It helps if you’ve planned out your approach to all scenarios such as these – much like having fire drills and a nuclear fall-out shelter.  However, if you aren’t much of a planner or were too busy making dinner, it helps to be a bit dramatic.

So I go into the living room with as tragic of an expression as I can muster.  I take him by the hand and say sadly, “Okay, let’s go get a plastic bag and get you cleaned up.”  He looked a bit interested in my diction choices, but was more concerned about the brick in his undies than anything else.  However, after I shook them out and put them in the plastic bag, his eyes got big.  Lots of tears ensued as he witnessed me tossing his Mickey Mouse undies into the trashcan.  “But Mama, you can’t throw out my Mickey Mouse underwear.  I like them!”

I managed to let him convince me that they could be washed out just this once so as to avoid the garbage dump.  He looked so relieved.  And then I told him that he was going to be the one to wash them out.

All those years as a teacher came in handy as I showed him how to swish them in the toilet to get all the bits and pieces off.  This is where a flair for the dramatic really came in handy.  “No, you can’t just swish them, you have to really swish them.  Oh dear sweetie.  Looks like you got some poop on your arm. See why I refuse to do this ever again?  This is gross.  Oh my, looks like some got in your hair.  I guess you’ll have to have a bath now.”

I figure the savings of diapers and pull-ups now is worth whatever the therapy bill runs me later when he’s a teenager.

Oh, and it’s been a week and he’s going poop on the toilet just fine.