We’ve been somewhat lax on pottying for my nearly two-year-old during the move, what with the 7 hours a day in the car and all, but now that we’re settled in at the hotel, I’m trying to get us back in the swing of things. Which means dropping everything when he says he has to pee.
Today at lunch, each time I put my son in his booster seat and he started eating, he’d get an alarmed look on his face and say, “Pee! Pee!” and sign potty.
I’d drop what I was doing (making tuna salad or slicing cucumber and red bell pepper or assembling nachos and quesadillas. I always resolve that I’m going to offer the children one lunch and they can choose to eat it or not; I’m not very good at keeping that resolution), get him down off the chair, and send him into the bathroom to use his little potty.
My tuna sandwiches on temperamental and expensive gluten-free bread were getting soggy and warm while I made food and food and food for the kids and sent the little guy to the potty every 2.5 minutes.
When he asked from his perch atop his booster seat to go potty for the third time, I asked, exasperated, “Am I ever going to get to eat my lunch?”
“No!” was his immediate and emphatic response.
I suppose that at least helps me adjust my expectations.