Wow.
It's amazing how hearing about the misery of others can make you feel soooo much better.
That is to say, it has been an extraordinary relief to read your dozens and dozens of comments and e-mails reassuring me that Graham's abject refusal to fully potty train at the age of three and a years of age is neither unusual, nor a reason to fear that I will be changing diapers in perpetuity.
Thank all of you for generously sharing your wonderful stories and advice, tips and tricks.
And forgive me for deciding to ignore all of them.
That is to say, I've decided I'm going to just give it a rest.
I know my son. I know he has inherited the stubborn gene from both parents and I know that his refusal to poop on the potty is, more than anything, an opportunity to test that inheritance against us.
As I said last night to Rob, "It's impossible to win a battle of wills against someone who doesn't even have the the ability to reason logically."
And so yesterday, after he used the potty all day to pee, I gave Graham his pull-up as soon as he asked for it and advised him casually, "You can poop in the potty if you want, it's up to you."
"That's great mommy! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he shouted, with a smile so happy and so clearly full of relief that I felt a little guilty about the boot camp mentality I've been subjecting him to all week.
Because the thing is, seeing him smile like that? Makes me think that, if I had to, I could probably change his damn pull-ups forever.
Just don't tell him that, m'kay?
