Cheech and Chong

I think we can call Darcy potty-trained at this point. She wears a pull-up to bed only.

Gavin is as usual another story. Pull-up during the day and night, and not above pooping and then taking the damn thing off, then running and hiding because he knows Dad's going to flip a lid.

The hiding place has been in a blanket rather than the more convenient standing behind a door so the poop on his butt wouldn't smear whatever it's touching. He goes all out, in other words, and I can only hope this trait follows him to school and sports and career.

His wearing of pink things would be much more palatable to me if he would just figger this out, though, like his oh-so-sweet twin sis. Where's his sense of competition, his pride, his muscle control?

Not sure if he's showing independence, doesn't want to grow up, just spaces out, or simply enjoys the sensation of squishy drawers. No alarm here--he's only 38 months--but it's been a drag the few times it's happened, especially since we've eliminated the diaper pails. Now, whereas I can throw a peed-in pull-up right in the trash, for #2 issues, I have to get a ziploc.

Then make sure I put the right thing in Connor's lunch.

Hee hee.