The other evening I went in and checked on Liam in his room. I smelled poop. I knew I would, because I have no faith in my child (in this department) anymore. I walked up to him and asked him if he pooped his pants (stupid question, I know, he looked at me as such too). He stated, “Yes, Mommy. I peed my pants too.” What in the actual hell? This kid has been peeing in the potty for a very long time. A. VERY. LONG. TIME. When I asked him why he did it, he simply stated, with a kind of dark tone, “Because I had to.” I’m done. I have lost my mind. I just know it. I’m going to snap like a twig soon.
So, we’ve resorted to taking a toy away when he poops his pants. Does he care? No. Last night was no exception. Nick and I were sitting at the table, and I stated, “I’m going to make him sit on the toilet. He usually poops his pants around this time every night.” I walked into his room. Want tp guess what I smelled? If you guessed POOP, you are correct. You win. “Liam Todd!” I yelled. He said, “Mommy! I pooped my pants!” Like it was something to be excited about. Nick walks in and tells Liam to give him a toy. Liam tried to give him some McDonald’s bullshit toy. But Nick was out for blood. I could see it in his eyes… He said, “No! Something you actually play with, like this truck!” He picked up Liam’s truck and left out of the room with it. Liam then looks at me, smiles, and says, “Yep! I play with that!”
Taking the toys away is doing nothing but making this kid feel like it’s a game. The upside? When he starts pooping in the potty, and gets a toy back each time he does, it’ll be like getting a new toy… And that, my friends, is a small victory for the VanCleaves.