I JUST got finished with my bantering to Elizabeth today about how potty training wasn't going as well as I had hoped it would for my summer job. Michael was just totally uninterested, and quite avoidant of the whole process. No big deal. After all, he still has until the end of August before he turns 3. I'm not hung up on a child being fully trained by the time they're 6 months old or anything. Nor do I want him waiting until he goes to high school. It has really become a non-issue. I figured we'd give it another shot later in the summer.
I've really enjoyed being the one who does the school dropping off and picking up. I waltzed into his classroom today, and no sooner had I shut the door did one of the teachers announce to the room that Michael had just tee-teed in the potty.
WHAT!?!?!?!?
My Michael? I hadn't even completely scanned the room to find him amongst the other kids and toys. My son? The "Do you want to go to the potty?--uhhh, NOPE" kid? My simple, one word "WHAT!?!?!?!?" reaction held such a complicated meaning.
Surprise, Amazement, Proud Mama, Woo-hoo, Happiness, annnnnnd...
Deep, empty sadness.
I'm holding on to little frazzled strands of baby-ness in my house. They're so few and far between at this point; I think I'm just keeping things around for visual stimulation of what it's like to have a baby around. I didn't think my years of mommying baby-aged children would start to end so, so quickly.
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