potty training conrad was like a high five you already had your hand raised for. one friday morning i woke up and decided it was time. i told him it was time. i took off his diaper, pointed to the potty, and then to the glass jar of rainbow colored chocolate incentives. that was it. he was potty trained.

truman, on the other hand, is proving to actually needing to be trained....on the potty and not in his pants. prior to truman, and after conrads lessons in bladder mastery, there were all these other kids we knew, kids who were conrads age and constantly crapping themselves, or their mothers would have to ask them if they had to go, if they were going to go in a sanitary means. it was foreign and frightening to me- i didn't understand why the kids didn't just excuse themselves and go to the restroom when they needed like my all-amazing conrad.

on a typical day truman poops himself at least once. at first i threw away his training underwear not sure what to do with a cloth bowl of crap. or, more honestly, knowing what to do but beyond disgust to actually bring myself to deal with said crap bowl. after a few times i realized that wasn't very earth friendly of me nor was it financially beneficial. so i began running the stinky, messy 2Ts to the wash, or if we were out, to a plastic bag i had brought ahead and had tucked in one of the front zip-up pockets of my purse. that was a few weeks ago, and we are, slowly but surely, getting better. some days, he's perfect: accident, poop-pants, free. and then some days, i gain empathy.