About six months ago, I had the bright idea of buying Gun-Gun a brand, spanking new potty chair. When it came in the mail we all chanted and cheered about the magnificent piece of plastic ready to tackle Gunny's little cheekies. The little throne was placed in our bathroom and quickly became the host to Gunny's waterlogged Hotwheels and Taterbug's Barbies. He's occasionally park himself on the seat only to get up and quickly assure me that he had "pooh farted." I have no clue what that is but I'm guessing he was speaking of two year old air biscuits.

Until last weekend, I truly thought that Gun-Gun was going to go to his prom in a pair of Depends with a special apology note to his date. However, Heaven's pearly gates opened on Sunday morning, and a "golden" light emanated from our bathroom. With the promise of "shocolit" (chocolate) he sat his little butt down on his seat and peed...and peed...and peed a little more all over his hand and some of my bath rug. Yes, the kid has no aim but who cares! We've began the potty training process and I can quit buying stock in Kirkland diapers!

With our oldest two, potty training came pretty easy. Taterbug trained with two older girls and C-dub had the wrath of Taterbug should he choose to - Heaven forbid - wet or soil his diaper. I wasn't sure how my older two were going to take the whole potty training issue but they've needled themselves easily into the process and they've become little experts on making Gun-Gun pee. Why, you ask? Why would my children be interested if Gun-Gun used his potty chair rather than a diaper? It's the candy. When Gunny does his duty, he's rewarded. If the kids help Gunny, then they get rewarded as well.

This morning, Gun-Gun started doing the familiar "potty dance" in the living room. My eagle-eyed children noticed this and quickly hustled him into the bathroom. I walked in and through the bathroom door could hear this:

Taterbug: Now sit down, Gunny. Let's go potty!
Gun-Gun: OK Sissy. I pee! I pee!
C-dub: Oh man! He's not doin' it Sissy.
Taterbug: He'll do it, just turn on the faucet. Running water always makes me have to pee. The sink goes on and a few seconds go by.
Gun-Gun: I dun, Sissy, no pee pee.
Taterbug: Come on, Gunny!
C-dub: Yeah Gun. We want candy so you better pee!

I was starting to feel bad for the little guy and I really don't like him being subjected to water torture, and I decide to go in and rescue him. Just as I do I hear the toilet seat go up and Taterbug announces that she's, "Gonna show him how it's done.”

I start to open the door only to hear the sweet sounds of two of my little urinators doing their thing. The countless minutes of peer pressure and bladder harassing paid off and Gunny produced some liquid gold for his sibling’s candy enjoyment.

They each lined up and received their "schocolit" reward and Mommazilla took one as well - after all, the supervisor needs to get paid.

I don't really consider his potty training to be in full force because honestly, the only time he wants to use the potty is when he or his siblings want a piece of candy. Then he's forced back into the torture chamber until his little bladder produces at least a noticeable droplet. We've even had trouble with some counterfeit urine as C-dub has an incredible sweet tooth and is known for "accidentally" spillin' a little water in the potty chair and claiming that Gun-Gun did his thing, re-diapered himself, and then put his pants back on. Right.....

I hope the process eventually goes into full force and poor Gunny doesn’t sustain too much damage to his modesty or his urethra.