Potty training has been somewhat of an adventure as it is very uncharted territory for me. Since the day we started, I have been waiting for the inevitable: that moment when the trainee becomes confident of his abilities before he is actually ready. Yesterday, that moment came.
After church on Sunday morning, I had been keeping a close watch on Fletcher. All of a sudden, he vanished. I looked everywhere from the auditorium to my husband's office. Soon a member of our church walked up to me with a sheepish grin on his face. "Fletcher is walking around the church with his pants off," he said. As you can imagine, I quickly roamed the church in search of my pant-less son. "Please let him still have his diaper on," I prayed.
I looked up, and there, waddling in penguin-like fashion, was my sweet little boy with both pants and diaper clinging to his ankles. Yes. My son was streaking through church.
I couldn't help but laugh at both the situation and the proud smile that shone on his face. I whisked him away into the bathroom while instructing him on the importance of modesty. "Mommy! I went potty!" Fletcher said with a laugh. "Where did you go potty?" was my wary reply. He led me to the nursery, and sure enough, he had taken care of his need. His only problem was what to do when he was finished. Hence, the streaking.
I have a feeling that he will have a hard time living that escapade down with the church family that were witnesses. Poor buddy.
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