Big-boy panties

The day had finally arrived when Cooper had determined it was off with the old and on with the new. The new big-boy panties, that is. There were no warm-ups. There was no dress rehearsal. He simply woke up one morning and decided it was time.

That’s not to say we haven’t had any accidents after escaping the diaper dregs. Pooing in one’s pants is a hard habit to break. Especially for a busy little boy.

In the beginning, he found it difficult to discontinue playing for something as petty as the potty. He’d usually hobble into the house at the last possible moment, knees knocking, eyes turning yellow.

One day when Randy caught him hiding in the hall, he asked him what he was doing. Cooper said sheepishly, “I forgot I needed to poop my pants.” Being skilled at interpreting a terrified toddler, I knew he’d forgotten that he had grown up overnight.

His first trips to the potty were somewhat hindered by his bothersome britches; however, with a bit of assistance, he would remove his garments, sit on the potty, and turn to us and say, “OK, now you go away.” He has since learned to pull his pants down, but he can’t seem to master the up. He usually comes shuffling out, with his clothes in a bunch around his ankles, not a care in the world or a clue about modesty or decency.

Brisco is catching on, too. Every time Cooper goes, he wants to go with. He’ll take his diaper off and sit on the singing potty chair. Sometimes he is successful; most times he’s just along for the ride. But he’s learning quickly. As he gets settled into place, he too looks up at us and says, “OK, you go away.”

Cooper is all boy, I must say, but for some reason, initially, he was not interested in taking advantage of the greatest gift in the history of God’s creation: the ability to pee standing up.

On our first major road trip, we stopped at the hospital, and Randy took him into the men’s room. They were in there so long, I thought I might have to go in for a rescue, but they finally emerged, exhausted and cross. Evidently, Dad had tried to get him to go standing up, and for Cooper, that just wasn’t an option. Maybe it was the urinal that had him flustered, but he was so out of sorts that he completely froze up and was unable to perform at all. From that point forward, the poor boy simply refused to stand.

Initially, I was pretty concerned about continuing our busy lifestyle with a water-guzzling whale of a boy who has a bladder the size of a peanut. I had visions of stopping every 10 miles at dilapidated old gas stations to beg for their oversized key-on-a-stick. Luckily, he has shown no signs of that. For a while, however, he did take issue with public restrooms in general.

After a recent stay in Sentinel, I learned what may have been the culprit behind his public potty panic. It seems that the shape of the seat plays a major role in a child’s decision to sit, at least to those children more set in their ways. (Somehow a crescent tends to be less trustworthy than the complete circle types.)

Since then, I suppose he has loosened up a bit, but he still has his boundaries. I took him to the bathroom one night at the gym. As usual, he refused to stand, but insisted that “Daddy puts toilet paper on the seat before I sit down.” So of course I was instructed to do the same. In all the fuss of getting the paper on the seat and his hands on the paper, evidently I didn't get his pants down far enough toward his ankles. I was squatting in front of him like a bird on a wire, and before I knew it…I’d been shot.

From play dates to ball games to the middle of church, with little ones the best rule seems to be “When they’ve gotta go, you’d better take ‘em.” Regardless of the time or place, the call of nature is loud after that 3rd cup of juice. But overall, I guess it hasn’t been so bad. Our diaper bags are a little lighter and our billfolds, a little heavier. And it’s just one more sign that we’re making progress. I’d like to think that every challenge we face will come to pass this easily. No squabbles, no battles, just reach for the big-boy panties and pull ‘em up.

And that’s All in a day’s work!