So yesterday evening previous to the evening ritual with Little Man, he asks for a “Biper.” Now, before everyone goes all anti-diaper/pro-potty training on my poor butt, let me ‘splain where we are in the whole potty training continuum. Honestly, there are not enough words that require the “uu,” but I digress. Anyway… Little Man is at the point in his potty training process where he typically will pee in the toilet or potty, but he is not about pooping in receptacles not strapped to his waist. So after he asks for a “biper” we ask him if he wants to use the potty or the toilet (“potty” being the cheap plastic thing his size and “toilet” being the porcelain god we make daily offerings to. That God is a bit unhappy with our gifts, but again that is beside the point.), he will adamantly refuse to use a “proper” waste receptacle and instead insists that we strap a poop-catcher on him. Now I know there are some people out there who think we should force the little tyke to use the facilities, but I know how willful this particular little cuss can/will be, so to keep this from becoming a battle of wills instead of a natural healthy evolving progression, we do not force him to make himself constipated.

Anyway… typically about 15 minutes after applying the poop-catcher, Little Man will find something handy to hold onto whilst bending over a little bit, standing on tip tows while rotating his right knee inwards, and “concentrating.” This hand hold could be the arm of a couch, the shelf for the DVD player, the train table, or occasionally Mimma. So he courches over and concentrates for a couple of minutes and then proclaims himself “Dirty.” Not Miss Aguilera’s kind of “Dirrty” mind you, he is only 3.1 years old.

I wait a couple of minutes because, who knows if he is actually done or not. Then I get the washcloth and start to approach him about cleaning his butt. I enter the room with a warm wet washcloth and he immediately backs up to the TV saying, No change biper! No change biper!

Little Man, we have to change your diaper, it is poopy and it isn’t good to have poop up against your bottom. I said “we” like there was someone else in the house. I do like to think of myself as the king of my domain, so maybe whilst Wifey was gone I was pretending to be the ruling monarch of Castle De SRH. Anyway…

No change biper! No change biper!
Little Man, we have to get you clean.
Maybe I was really approaching it as a collaborative effort between he and I and as a King to his subject?
I am going to count to 5…
Oooh the big guns. He comes over and lays down in front of me, and I commence the wiping procedure.

Okay, you might be asking me, “Why the heck am I reading about you changing your kid’s diaper?” Well, nice reader, the back story was necessary for the punchline of this particular anecdote.

About 15 minutes after “forcing Little Man to get out of his own filth” Little Man crawls up on my lap and looks at me expectantly. Papa sorry?
No, Papa is not sorry for cleaning your little butt.
Papa sorry.
Papa is not sorry. Sometimes Papas and Mamas have to do things that have to be done even when you do not want them to.
Papa is sorry that you did not want to get out of that dirty diaper.
He gave me a curt nod and said satisfactorily, Papa sorry.

To recap:
Exercising sucks
I hurt worse today
Much worse
And I have to do it again… tonight!
Goodness I wish he would poop in the toilet
I posted something on The Drawingboard’s superhero section today
This was a big leap for me
Now I just need to start drawing regularly again