That's not to say that we don't still have, uh, "issues" here in the Trenches. Because we do.
Eldest? Wets himself. But only on Sunday mornings.
(Pondering that one, are ya?)
Football games are on Sunday mornings. Involving special underwear with a protective cup (you haven't lived until you've had a 7 year old come up to you with one of those on, thrust his pelvis out and say, "Here Mom - hit me! It won't hurt!" and then knock-knock-knock with his wrapped fist on his dingaling area.), biker shorts with protective pads, and then football pants on top with even MORE protective padding. Football pants that are laced up and then double or triple-knotted.
Yeah. So I kinda don't blame the kid for just pissing in his drawers instead of going through the rigamarole of undressing and then re-dressing.
[Rigamarole is a severely underutilized word, don't you think? It reminds me of a casserole. Yummm...pass me some of that rigamarole casserole. Hey, casserole is another one!]
[Someone please stop me.]
And every Sunday, without fail, he discretely hides his sopping football unders in his laundry basket. And every Sunday, without fail, when we ask him why they're wet, he shrugs his shoulders and responds, "It's probably just sweat."
And then there's Baby. Baby, who at age 3, has been potty-trained since February. (Through no effort on my part though, mind you. Remember, he has 2 older brothers.)
Baby's latest? He STRIPS HIMSELF COMPLETELY NAKED before sitting on the potty to make a "deposit". Even the socks must come off.
I can't count the number of times I've seen a trail of clothing strewn haphazardly in a path leading to the throne. And there's naked Baby,
Which is fine, but then comes the process of entirely re-dressing. Needless to say, usually at least one item of clothing adorning Baby is either backwards or inside-out. Sometimes both.
Can you imagine if we all did this?
You'd walk into the ladies room and see bare feet underneath the stalls. With business suits and stockings draped across the top of the stall doors. Heh. (And I have a 5th grade mentality.)
Or you're at home, doing your business, and the phone or the doorbell rings. Instead of just deftly pulling up your pants, you'd have to completely re-dress yourself first. While the phone/doorbell keeps ringing...and ringing... (Okay, maybe 4th grade.)
Each and every time Baby gets nekkid, as his mother, I feel compelled to inform him, "You know, kiddo, you could JUST PULL DOWN YOUR PANTS AND UNDERWEAR INSTEAD. It's a lot easier."
And each and every time, he shrugs his shoulders and responds, "I wike doin' it 'dis way, Momma. I be's naked to do poops."