The Paper Chase

Perhaps it's my own fault...a self-fulfilling prophecy. I knew before I ever became a mother that I would hate potty training! Somehow I managed to survive the first three. It wasn't easy and they each had their own particular issues - but I survived. I thought I might despair while training #4, but recently - magically - we achieved success.

Now we face a new challenge - paper control! Let's just say he's not worried about saving trees. Episode #1 of The Paper Chase: Wipes. I noticed A. was in the bathroom - "Don't flush until Mommy comes to help you," I said as I went to deal with another issue. I returned and peeked in on him a couple of minutes later. He was standing by the potty, with his hand on the "flusher." I looked in the bowl and to my horror saw two huge stacks of flushable wipes - basically the whole box - floating around! "Don't flush yet!!" I yelled as I ran for a pair of rubber gloves and a plastic bag. I rounded the corner - armed - when I heard it ... the distinct sound of ... Flushing! "NOOOOOO!!!!!" I screamed as I dashed in (can't you just see it in slo-mo?), put the gloves on, thrust my hand in the swirling water, and yanked the chunks of soggy paper from the bowl just before they caused an expensive visit from the plumber. Whew! That was close. The good news - now we were out of wipes. I gave another lecture on waiting for Mommy's help and not using too many wipes. Then I tried to recover what was left of our morning.

"Just be thankful he's using the potty at all..." I kept telling myself, "Just 'do the next thing...'"

Last night we experienced Episode 2 of The Paper Chase: Qulted Northern. A. was in the upstairs potty this time (the cute fishy kids' bathroom.) I didn't even know he was in there. I was walking up the stairs when I heard the handle of the toilet begin to jiggle. "Wait, A.!" I shouted (taking the steps two at a time now.) Once again I found him standing over the toilet, sans pants. He had a blue medical glove on one hand (souvenier from the last trip to the doctor) and a wad of dripping toilet paper in his hand. Piles of soaking toilet paper were in (and mostly out) of the trash can. I can just see the wheels turning in that little brain: "Ok, Mom is nuts, but I guess this is the way we do it now!" I let out a shriek, told him to "freeze!" and ran downstairs for my cell phone. No WAY was I dealing with this on my own again - it was Daddy's turn. (My only real phobia -- wet paper! Crazy, I know. Makes the whole situation just so.much.more.funny, huh? Laugh it up!)

So I get Daddy on the phone. He's on his way home, but too far away. (Or maybe not. This can wait, right? A. can just stand there, frozen, no pants, dripping TP in hand - for 3o minutes or so? No? Really? Ok, I can handle this.) I take a deep breath and go get my gloves, a plastic bag, some paper towels, and windex. Little K., who had witnessed my earlier shriek, keeps coming to the door and giving her own little mock shriek. I put A. in the shower (mostly to play and keep him out of my hair) and dive in. Once I get all the wet, nasty, slimy TP in the bag, I proceed to clean the bathroom - floor to ceiling. Check that off the old To Do List. (gotta find the silver lining, folks!) I finish up my work, get the little stinker (pun intended) out of the shower, and wrestle the yucky glove out of K's hand (we all washed our hands - and the gloves - I promise.) Who do you think should walk in the door at that very moment? That's right - Daddy! Laughing his head off, to boot! This guy has impeccable timing, let me tell ya.

Don't worry though, I fear our journey on the Paper Chase is not done. He'll get his turn! Stay tuned for the next episode...