As you know, we're in the process of potty training Jack. Boys are notoriously harder than girls to train (yes, that's our excuse for having a three year old wearing diapers), and it has been a challenge with Jack. Complicating matters, he's strong-willed, so on good advice, we've been letting things take their course, encouraging the issue with promises of treats and rewards for repeated use. He's warming to the idea of the potty, er... toilet, and he has even been asking to wear his "big boy" underwear that we bought him for his birthday in January.
Long story short, Jack was with me in the kitchen tonight, hanging out while I cleaned up bit, sitting on his favorite stool, in nothing but a tee shirt and his big boy undies. I looked over, saw activity I didn't condone (and certainly did not want to foster over the long term) and said, in a firm, stern voice,
"Jack, stop playing with it. It's not a toy."
Yes. The "it" is what you think it is.
No comments:
Post a Comment