Swim Lessons for Jonathon

Your 2nd day of swim lessons began identically to your first: you looked down at your feet and refused to move. Your arms circled but only because Miss Christina moved them. Unfortunately, Miss Emily (your fave) was not there and won't be back - something about family vacation and heading back to college. Such is the nature of working with teenagers, I suppose.

Anyhoo, Mommy saw you were struggling to get your mojo so she gave you what she thought was a reassuring "you can do it!"wave from afar.

You apparently saw it as more of a "ditch that swim lesson and hang with me" sort of wave and you ran over.

"No! Go back to your lesson," she called.

You grabbed her legs and hugged her. Then you ran back and began participating.

Was that all you needed-- a hug? Aww... I'm sorry, little man. My bad.

Note to self:
Never ever ever forget the hug. Ever.

The rest of swim lessons went great except for the fact that the teachers called you Jonathon the whole time. When I corrected them, the one who had been with us the day before was pretty mortified and very apologetic.

As we were leaving, your classmate, Matthew, called out, "Bye Jonathon!" Oops.

Note to Cole: When someone calls you Jonathon, tell them, No, my name is COLE. Own it!! :-)

Epic Potty Training Fail

On Monday, Grandmom put you in underwear for several hours. You didn't have an accident and Grandma declared you ready for potty training.  Um, okay.

So this past weekend we decided to give it a go.

Saturday, July 21: Mommy got up with you, removed your overnight diaper and put you in underwear.  Soon after you ran into the kitchen and announced happily: "Mommy, I want to make poopy on the potty!"

Wow, that was easy.  What is all the fuss about potty training, I thought.

Then I checked your underwear.  Damn.  Double damn.

Fast forward to avoid detailed descriptions of scraping poop out of underwear...

We went to the diner for lunch.  You had on clean, fresh underwear and felt like a big boy. You got your usual (grilled cheese).  Charlie got his usual (strawberry crepes).  All was right with the world.  At the end of the meal, daddy took your to the bathroom to wash your hands.  That's when he realized you were soaked with pee.  You just let it all out as if you had a diaper on.

Long story short, you spent the rest of the day soaking underwear, your clothes, anything you sat on and anyone who picked you up with urine. I believe the outfit change tally = 5. Spectacular.

Sunday, July 22: It's go time. No diaper. No underwear.

The dream: You will feel the cool breeze on your nether regions. You will see what happens when you need to go pee. You will finally connect the sensation of "the urge" with the act and then you will use the potty. It will be magical and glorious.

The reality: You will empty your bladder on the dining room floor. You will do a great job cleaning it up (great for a 3-year-old). You will pee again in the yard. You will not care. And, to quote you, you "will never use the potty!"

And we're back to diapers.