With only 35 seconds left in the SuperBowl, Matthew exclaims, "I have to go potty!"
The SuperBowl! Giants were only up by 3 points, and Tom Brady was about to advance his team down field. Tom Brady and the unbeatable Patriots! The SuperBowl! He has to go "potty"!!!!
Yes, he has mastered the "potty" thing, but problem was: I had already changed him into a 'one piece' pajama. He is not the escape-from-the-pajama artist his sister Rachel was. His problem required my assistance.
I ran with him quickly to the bathroom. I yanked off his pajamas and his pull-up and I say, "you go potty. I'll be right back."
Before I could round the corner to return to my much anticipated game, "Dad! I'm done!"
Only 1 second left in the game. It appears there are already celebrations, but referees are chasing players and coaches off the field to allow one more play. 'Were the Patriots on fourth down? Do they still have possession?' I couldn't remember..... or, 'did I even see any of the plays from the 35 seconds to this 1 second?'
"Dad! I'm done," he shouts, with very little patience. (where did he get that from?)
I return to the bathroom. I quickly put his pull-up and pajamas back on him and impatiently encourage him to return with me to the Family Room and the blessed television.
"No, Dad, I need to dump the pee in the toilet." (He uses a porta-potty that has a removable waste receptacle.)
"Okay, hurry!"
He slowly removes the receptacle and carries it over to the toilet. He stares at its contents and decides to swish it around.
"Just dump it already!"
He slowly pours the waste into the toilet and he presses the handle to flush away the waste.
"I need to wash my hands."
"Okay, hurry!"
He turns on the water and dips his index finger into the streaming water.
"Okay, Matt, that's good. Let's go!"
"I need to brush my teeth!"
"Not now," I cry. I pick him up and run with him back into the family room.
Game over! Giants won!
The SuperBowl! Giants were only up by 3 points, and Tom Brady was about to advance his team down field. Tom Brady and the unbeatable Patriots! The SuperBowl! He has to go "potty"!!!!
Yes, he has mastered the "potty" thing, but problem was: I had already changed him into a 'one piece' pajama. He is not the escape-from-the-pajama artist his sister Rachel was. His problem required my assistance.
I ran with him quickly to the bathroom. I yanked off his pajamas and his pull-up and I say, "you go potty. I'll be right back."
Before I could round the corner to return to my much anticipated game, "Dad! I'm done!"
Only 1 second left in the game. It appears there are already celebrations, but referees are chasing players and coaches off the field to allow one more play. 'Were the Patriots on fourth down? Do they still have possession?' I couldn't remember..... or, 'did I even see any of the plays from the 35 seconds to this 1 second?'
"Dad! I'm done," he shouts, with very little patience. (where did he get that from?)
I return to the bathroom. I quickly put his pull-up and pajamas back on him and impatiently encourage him to return with me to the Family Room and the blessed television.
"No, Dad, I need to dump the pee in the toilet." (He uses a porta-potty that has a removable waste receptacle.)
"Okay, hurry!"
He slowly removes the receptacle and carries it over to the toilet. He stares at its contents and decides to swish it around.
"Just dump it already!"
He slowly pours the waste into the toilet and he presses the handle to flush away the waste.
"I need to wash my hands."
"Okay, hurry!"
He turns on the water and dips his index finger into the streaming water.
"Okay, Matt, that's good. Let's go!"
"I need to brush my teeth!"
"Not now," I cry. I pick him up and run with him back into the family room.
Game over! Giants won!
That's how it ALWAYS goes with kids! I finally just decided it's better to let Colton wee in his pants than to miss the biggest play of the game. I mean, a man has to have his priorities! I have to teach my kids early that if I have to choose between urination and missing the biggest play of the game, I'll always just pee in my pants. Why should they be any different?
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