My Big Boy And His Big Changes

So...amidst all of our summer craziness, we’ve had some pretty may-jah advancements in the growing up department for m’boy.

First—he’s pretty much potty training himself.

No joke.

All seriousness.

I feel like I’m just barely past the stage of getting Chicklet freaking potty trained (seriously, it’s the truth), so I have not not not been in the head space of diving back in with another child! No matter how badly I want to be done with diapers forevah.

But the darn booger has just been crazy-enthusiast about the potty all the time (party all the time, hehe), so I’ve just been rolling with it.

And it’s just such a shock to have it this easy because I went through more than a year of painful painy-pain-pain with each of the girls before they would ever even go on the big girl potty. I mean, crying, yelling, sobbing, angst.

But apparently, we’re just barreling right on past that year with Little Man.

And it’s glorious.

And potentially how this whole potty training thing is “supposed” to go?

Who knows.

But for all those peeps out there who told me repeatedly and consistently that girls were the easier ones to train...lies. Lies, lies, lies. (At least in my experience.)

So there ya go—Little Man is two months into the big boy potty life, and we’ll see how it continues.

And secondly, in the he’s-growing-up-too-dang-fast category of updates—we’re officially done with the high chair.

Now, technically, he’s hasn’t needed one in ages, but his messes have a wide blast zone, so he’s stayed in one for the most part at home (if not at restaurants all the time). 

But last week before our trip, he was having a rambunctious/cranky round in the high chair and forcing it to rock back and forth (despite our commands not to), and the darn high chair literally toppled forward, sending the tray flying, my boy sprawling to the ground, and his plate crashing with him, cutting him (teeny-tiny cuts) in three dang places!

I mean...talk about a conclusive and irrevocable end to the high chair.

That, m’peeps, was it.

Now. I’ll clarify that he was not at all tramautized and wildly pumped about his Incredibles band-aids, so all was fine. 

Now, the only non-highchair complicaton: he doesn’t stay put.

So I’m employing the use of the stretchy belt that was used on me when I was a wee thing and wouldn’t stay put at the table. ;)



Stay tuned for some kitchen table chair updates I’m hoping for, now that our high chair days are OVER. Woohoo!

Peace out.