The Course of True Potty Training Never Did Run Smooth

A couple of weeks ago, LO was enjoying his 169,795,347th viewing of the film Cars while I checked Facebook worked on some articles. He came to my chair, indicating his desperate need for the potty in the engaging way he has of pointing at his crotchal region.

Obligingly, I led him to the bathroom, helped him to remove various clothing and diaper accoutrements, aided him in sitting on said potty, and went back to my procrastination work. (LO seems to prefer potty-time sans an audience, although he's a fan of our excited clapping when he successfully shows off his skillz.)

Within less than a minute, LO was back out of the bathroom again, un-pottied and un-pantsed, standing in the living room, again taking in the misadventures of Lightning McQueen. He strenuously objected to my attempts to re-diaper him, and yet he did not seem particularly interested in returning to the bathroom.

At that point, light dawned. How many individuals with more money than sense or taste have installed televisions in bathrooms to remedy this very problem? (At least, that was the case before DVR was invented.) In short, LO, like many a man (and woman) before him, wanted badly to continue watching his program while simultaneously taking care of business.

Luckily, toddler potties are remarkable for their portability, unlike their adult counterparts. Ignoring the potential consequences of this particular precedent, I brought LO's potty into the living room so that he could multi-task.

Again, I left him alone. When I checked on him about five minutes later,  I was chagrined to find that my repeated injunctions that he be careful that certain portions of his anatomy be pointed into the potty had been ignored in his interest in Lightning, Doc, and Mater. The child had managed to create quite a puddle on the living room floor. There was only the tiniest amount in the potty itself.

Well, he tried.

As J pointed out, the puddle that I had to mop up was entirely on me.