A Super Duper Pooper. Life would be so grand; just like this video:

In my vain attempt at potty training Gunny, I've resorted to searching through Youtube for funny little songs that he might relate to. If I can't talk him into doing a #2 with the promise of a new monster truck, I honestly don't know what will work other than a charming little song or two. The above video I've posted is not only funny, but it's slightly disturbing as well. Make sure you wait 'til the end when the male clown escorts three little kids into a well used bathroom. On a comfort level of 1-10, it got a -50 from me, but for the 80's I'm sure it won awards.

Back to my own big boy dilemma....I've kept the poor kid naked the past three days and he's been peeing like a champ both in his little potty and the big boy commode. He's now demanding to have his "dipah" put back on so I know there is an impending turtle head trying to make his presence known. It's like "Bad Day at Brown Rock" all over again - but the loser in this gets to clean the carpet.

I know he's ready for this - not only because I'm sick of his little man-poop diapers and the fact he's about ready to move into Depends - but he's recently started apologizing for his nasty little episodes. In fact, the other morning he greeted me in the hallway with a, "Morning Mom! Oh, sowwee bout dat, I poofed my pants. I discustin'." And that he was - clean up through his back and down his thighs. It takes a lot for me to dry heave but that morning batch of yuckiness did the trick.

I don't remember my older two being that difficult to potty train. With Taters, she had a couple of other little girls in daycare that were also going through the process In this case, the peer pressure did a super job of keeping her clean and dry. And C-dub, poor little fellow, he had the wrath of Taters to contend with should he have decided to slip up and have an accident.

C-dub's only aversion to potty training was the #2 issue on the big boy toilet. He'd hold it for days only to finally be in a frantic and running like a constipated cheetah to the toilet. When he'd finally sit down and relax (if only for a moment), he'd panic and scream, "Nooooo!!!! It's comin' out, Daddeeee!!!!" I'm not sure if he expected Hubby to catch his little "buddy" or if he thought the toilet monster was going to swoop in for seconds. Who knows, but each successful "completion" would end in clapping, cheering, and mutual sharing of gummy bear treats.

Gunny and I are currently watching each other from across the room. He's got one hand on his little butt and the other on his hip demanding his "dipah." I'm not giving in and I think he's slowly starting to realize this even though he's none too happy with his current predicament. His glares and heavy sighs are doing nothing to my psyche; having seen it all, I'm truly bulletproof to the "puppy dog" face. I've enlisted the older two to join me on poop patrol. They're out this week on break and found the idea of an easy $2 a piece, just to rat out their little brother, way too appealing. Wish me luck. It's gonna be a long day and I'm almost out of carpet cleaner.