Bubbit peeed in his potty yesterday. Now I know what a coach feels like when his student wins an Olympic gold.
There we were, his own private cheerleaders: Grandma, Kakak and Mummy, egging him on to do the deed.
Actually, last night was the second time in three days. After months of lying there clean, dry and rejected (Bubbit threw Potty into the airwell everytime it came near), Potty has now been splashed with golden nectar!
It was a real drama to behold and there were tears aplenty, but my dear boy did it! Yes, he did have to be restrained like an ex-con (guilt, guilt), but with my soft urging ("I don't care Bubbit, this is just something you have to do"), he braved what was to him, the unnatural, and is now cometing his way out of toddlerhood into the realm of boyhood.
I am so proud of him.
Now, new dilemmas present themselves.
As we enter a new phase, one of wet mattresses and toilet visits at inopportune times, one wonders: Where do you buy small boy's underpants? Do they make them his size? And what of all those Drypers?
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