I'm determined to start Michael potty-training sooner than I did Abby, having learned that defiance is quite a thing to contend with during the process. Though I'm hopeful that Michael's personality is less defined by the stubbornness that his sister has displayed, I still feel it would be prudent to get a jump on the upcoming phase in which some level of it is sure to show its terrible face.
My progress has been slow but sure. About a month ago, I ordered some tiny t-shirts and boxer briefs. I followed that up with the purchase of a pack of pull-ups, for night- and nap-times. I even got a new over-the-toilet potty seat that has a built in splash-guard for those special little boy type messes. Most impressive of all, Tom and I finally cleared out a bit of space in the normally closed-off section of the playroom, where I plan to keep Michael while he's prone to messes so that I won't have to worry about Mia wandering into them as the soiled spots dry.
However, though the underwear and t-shirts have been washed, the room has been readied, and Abby's been getting good use out of the new seat (we keep it in the downstairs bathroom and store her other one for access upstairs), I still haven't taken the last step: a commitment to some serious diaper-free time.
I've been waiting for a decent span of consecutive days in which Tom will be around to help out if things get sticky. Last week's extra office-runs delayed my plans, and threw me for a bit of a loop. I'm hoping perhaps to jump in by this Thursday, but in the meantime it seems that Michael has picked up on my wavelength.
Perhaps it was that weeks-ago introduction to the pull-ups. I'm not even sure he knew exactly what they were, but he was sure excited about the Lightning McQueen character displayed on the packaging.
It's possible that he's finally beginning to observe and understand the daily habits of his older sister.
Maybe, it's just time.
I do know he's gotten a bit too exploratory for my taste, necessitating a return of the onesie after an unfortunate morning in which he stuck his hand down a soiled diaper and then spread the mess in an attempt to clean off his poor little hand. I've noticed that he's not been a fan of his pants lately. And over the last few days, I've tried to follow his cues and let him do some bathroom runs when he feels the inspiration.
Most have not produced anything but a little grin and giggle and an excited rush to flush the toilet afterwards. Yesterday afternoon, though, we did get a little pee, which so pleased him that he felt compelled to say the word for the first time, too.
I'm trying not to get too hopeful about all of this. I know I've likely got a challenge ahead of me, and one that will prove to be so in very different ways than Abby's experience was challenging. However, I have a feeling that my little guy will have enough enthusiasm to get us through it with fewer tears this time around.
That's the little hope I'm nursing, anyway.