Potty-training Log, Stardate: Is it over yet?

Yep, I started the school year with just one lesson in mind for Jake - you know, because I just love that stage of parenthood where at any given moment your tasks can be interrupted by a shout from the restroom, "I'm duh-uhn!" Which means you're on paper duty. Now the school year is almost over and I have just now found the energy to say, this far and no farther, Buddy. You're getting potty trained this week.

Wrong. I'm getting potty-trained. Every fifteen to thirty minutes the timer goes off in the kitchen and I drop whatever I'm doing no matter what and take him to the bathroom. If I don't obey the beep, I regret it later. On top of that, I watch him. All the time. Like a hawk. He has yet to tell me he needs to go, so I have to catch him at it.

And here's the weird part - I'm loving it. Did you know he smiles at the cool parts on his movies? And he quotes them too. You can actually see ideas form in his mind when he decides to move his dinosaurs or vehicles from one couch or table to another. It really fascinates me when all the Candy Land gingerbread dudes are filled with colored shapes, and he gets a repeat - like an orange triangle when all the orange triangle spaces are already filled. What will he do? I wonder. Stack the new triangle on top of one of the others? Put it back in the gingerbread house for later (that's what I would do). Or set it beside another triangle as if to say, "Here's a spare." He chose option number 3 and the whole process was more engrossing for me than anything I was reading online.

So the potty training is not so good. I'm interested to see how long it takes before I don't consider him a walking surprise party just waiting behind the couch to freak me out. And I'm holding on for dear life to the fact that I don't remotely remember this process with the other two, and what I do remember is extremely triumphant. But most of all, I'm enjoying the excuse to make him the most important part of every single moment of my day. It's Day 2, People. If it's no easier by the end of the week, there aren't enough This-Too-Shall-Pass bumper stickers in the world to make me write anything even remotely this positive.