Elmo hates you

Trying to talk in sensible manner with a barely 3-year-old boy is an almost impossible task.

Me: Shawn Joaquin, we don't push at school.
SJ: Peyton pushed me.
Me: Peyton shouldn't push you. And you shouldn't push Kate.
SJ: I don't push Kate. I GRAB HER.

One of Gregg's co-workers has suggested we try gold stars on a chart as a motivator for toilet training, and explain to him that if he sits on the toilet and does his job, he gets a gold star. Once, in desperation, we did introduce the idea. The conversation ended up with a "What I want gold stars about?" and some urine on the floor.

I read a book a while back about how to motivate your child and successfully toilet train them in a single day. It involved having a big party and having all of their favorite people call — including Elmo, Diego and any superhero or other character they idolize — to encourage them.

For every 15 minutes that they stay dry, they get an M&M, some Cheetos or a beer. (Urinator's choice.)

Then, when they fail (which they inevitably will, being barely sentient beings who think that eating playdoh = good idea) you HUMILIATE THEM. You make them run back and forth to the toilet, dropping and raising their wet underwear on their bare legs. Then Elmo calls and says "what ARE you, a BABY? I'm very disappointed in you, you little urine-soaked midget, and I will never be your friend as long as you're a big fat baby who wets his pants".

After I change this diaper, we're going hunt the author down and have him face the thousands of kids humiliated into toilet training, only to go on to wet the bed at 35 and think that Elmo is speaking to THEM when he says "HELLO, bay-by."

For now, the M&Ms are mine and the beer is Gregg's, and Elmo will forever be Shawn Joaquin's friend.