Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Three At Last! Three At Last!

 

See this kid? Feel sorry for him

Feel sorry for him because he has a mother who has absolutely no idea what she's doing. She actually wakes up every morning and says,

"What am I doing?"

This kid's mom had this special idea to have him toilet trained by the time he turned three. To give him ample time she started three weeks ahead of the birthday date. She chose Tootsie Rolls and yellow Gatorade as incentives to get the boy going and only realized two and half weeks later how appropriately inappropriate those particular treats are for a kid learning all about what comes out of his body. This poor kid.

Feel sorry for this boy because last Saturday his mother took him to a movie and when he leaned over to not-so-much whisper in her ear that he had to go "peeps" in the middle of that darkened theater it took her a second for the situation to register. As a result, the semi-neglected child made it to the bathroom in time, but not on the actual toilet. She had to dry his sopping pants and shoes under a hand dryer and they missed a big chunk of the storyline.

Try not to feel the shame when you find out she lets him eat Popsicles for any meal or for anytime in between. In fact, if dissected, his stomach would reveal a lacking diet consisting of deli meat, Popsicle liquid and spicy chips. Always spicy chips.

And his incompetent mother doesn't always know what to do when he gets feisty and hits, scratches or steals toys from other children. She suspects it might have something to do with boredom, curiosity and not enough face time from his mother. While she likes his experimental behavior she's still working on a plan to make sure it is a positive contribution to his world and others. Mostly, see above: she has no idea what she's doing.

On a positive side, she has managed to keep him alive for three years to this very date. He sleeps with clean, warm pajamas at night and there's always a story to be told--in whispers--about climbing to the top of the mountains outside his bedroom window and building a rocket ship that could blast out past the white clouds and float around in space for a few days. And, recently she's allowed him to name his little bitty sibling growing in her tummy.

And the name he chose always makes them both chuckle: Squishy.

It may be best to give this mother and boy one more year to create better developmental strategies before we alert the authorities. In the meantime, do feel sorry.




email me: cjanemail@gmail.com