Two nights ago, I got Sammy all nice and packaged up in his jammies… both pairs, since it’s a little chilly in his room, and of course a onsie… and we sat down to snuggle in his rocker to read a book before bed. That is, until he interrupted our quiet time with this:
“I poop!”
“You have to poop?” I said, dreading the undressing and redressing and general delay of bedtime that this was about to cause. “I poop!” he happily replied.
So off we went… and sure enough, he was right.
Last night, the exact same thing happened – as soon as he figured out that we were headed for the rocker, and therefore he was headed to bed, he shouted “I poop!”
Again, we undressed. I sat him on the potty and I sat on the floor. We read books. We talked. We waited. An nothing happened. Eventually, I bundled him back up – onesie and jammies and jammies #2, and we headed back to his room.
As soon as we sat down in the rocker again, he started struggling. “Noooooo… I pooooop,” he said, although this time it was with more whining and less excitement.
This time, though, I wasn’t going to go through it again. He had a diaper on, the worst that could happen is that he’d go in it. And, you know, completely regress in his potty training. But late last night, it was a risk I was willing to take. Fortunately, he woke up this morning clean and dry, but this only means one thing.
He has figured out the perfect way to stall the bedtime procedures, the little bugger.
