Breakfast was uneventful. Then this little man went out to jump on the trampoline. I was peeling apples for a pie and watching him jump through the window. (while you're reading this next part please remember I was not through my first coffee yet)
He bent over to look at his car, and then stared at it for a long time. Then he ran to the door and lost it.
I thought this would be a good moment to teach him how to open the door (see coffee comment above). He wasn't exactly responding well, then I figured out he was saying, "I pooped in my pants". Yes, all the holding still and staring was really just round 2 of pooping (see coffee comment above).
I've got to be honest, I wasn't that worried about it. I was just kind of glad he pooped. I scooped him up and carried him upstairs to the toilet. This didn't help his state of mind. He went from a medium temper tantrum to an almost big temper tantrum.
I told him he wasn't in trouble, but that the rest of the day he'd need to do his poops on the toilet. He was mad I made him sit on the toilet. He was mad that he needed to have a bath. He was even mad there was poop in his pants. I ignored him, and washed him up. When he was over his fit, I talked to him about pooping on the toilet, and told him that if he pooped in his pants again he'd have to wear a pull up. (I'm not sure if that was over the top or not, but he is four, and it wasn't like we were rushing around, I think he might just have an aversion to sitting on the toilet)
He looked at me and said, "It's a choice". I wasn't sure what he was talking about, so I asked him, what was a choice. Cute smiled answer, "Wearing a pull up. It's a choice."
How can you argue with that.
The rest of the day was great. We had about 40 people here for dinner and he managed quite nicely. Well done little guy, well done.
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