Getting the Potty Chair out of Mothballs

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Getting the Potty Chair out of Mothballs

I’ve always thought there should be an exemption clause for some of the stickier parts of parenting that goes into effect when you become a grandparent. For instance:   Getting up in the middle of the night Explaining body parts Heavy discipline on a regular basis Teaching them to drive And Potty Training   The above very incomplete list can be pretty well avoided by most grandparents unless you are one of the 3 million grandparents raising your grandchildren (kudos) or if your grandchildren are temporarily living with you. Recently, we fell into that latter category.   These months of multi generational living have been a gift to us. It’s been a wonderful time of bonding with these little Texas natives and an opportunity to give our son and daughter-in-law a hand as they make their transition to Arizona and a new job.   There’s nothing like the welcome you get when you walk into the kitchen at 6:15am and are greeted by two little boys as they’re having their first of ten meals for the day. And the three year old’s daily mantra of “have a good day Nanaw” as I walk out the door is enough to ensure that I will.   But potty training wouldn’t wait until they moved to their own place and, in this instance, it’s happening on our watch (our kitchen floor, the living room carpet and the leather couch as well). I’ve never seen so many pairs of super hero boxers but they sure are cute. And I don’t think we’ve had this much potty talk around our house since our son’s senior class buddies watched the Super Bowl here.   Just in case you’re wondering, we are making progress. Accidents are getting fewer, successes are ramping up and we are reminded again why children are born to people much younger than us.   To all of you parents and grandparents who are out of the potty training years, the next time you want to complain about a daily task, just remember you could be sitting on the floor next to the potty chair reading Green Eggs and Ham for the fifth time as you wait for a reason to celebrate and hit the M & M jar.   Here’s to Déjà Poo and Big Boy Drawers, Love, Darcy    

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