Potty training is easy
Colton Ziemba / guest columnist
June 15, 2003
Now that I'm 2, I know just about everything there is to know. Mommy is so pleased and tells me every day that she is proud of me and Daddy calls me his little man.
To be fair, though, my parents aren't too hard to impress. I've known my colors and how to count to three for a long time, but they still get all excited when I point to a tree and say, "green." And I can tell the same joke over and over and they laugh every time.
Being 2 isn't all fun and games, though. All day I'm busy helping with projects around the house. I have my own little mower and tools for gardening with Mommy and get to help Daddy build things. I already know how to pull out the tape measure, draw lines on wood and hold boards while Daddy drills holes.
The key to building is knowing what to hit with a hammer. Sometimes when I hit things, Mommy and Daddy clap and get the camera to take a picture. But other times Daddy jumps off the ladder and races over yelling, "No, no, no!" You should've seen how fast he ran when I walked over the truck yesterday with a crowbar.
My favorite job is to pick nails up off the ground. Every time I find one, Daddy has to put down the circular saw and stop what he's doing so that I can put it back in his pouch. Daddy says over and over he doesn't know how he ever got anything done without all of my help.
The only thing I don't like about being 2 is that Daddy won't let me drive the tractor or use the really neat tools like the chainsaw until I'm much older. He hasn't given an exact age yet, but I sure hope he's not going to make me wait until I'm 3.
I'm not worried, though, because at the rate I'm going, a lot of things are going to be happening in he next few months. Like going to the potty.
So far, potty training is pretty easy. Whenever I want gummy bears, all I have to do is walk up to Mommy or Daddy and say "Poo-poo in the potty."
Daddy can be on the phone with his boss, or heading out the door to go to work, and he'll drop whatever he's doing, swoop me up, run into the bathroom, and sit me on the potty. Then, he and Mommy make funny faces, sing songs about going potty and give me gummy bears.
It's quite entertaining, but they're starting to make me sit on the potty longer and are giving me less candy than they did a few weeks ago. Usually after 10 minutes, I'll say, "No poo-poo," and hop off. Mommy and Daddy stop singing. I'm not sure, but I'm starting to suspect they want me to do more than eat candy when I'm on the potty.
There are a few other things I don't understand either.
Every day, Daddy stops at the end of the driveway and pulls papers out of the mailbox. Sometimes we get pictures of cousins, but most of the mail comes from two guys named Junk and Bill.
Before he goes inside, Daddy stands at the back door and flips through the letters. Daddy must not like Junk, because all his letters go straight into the trash can. But Daddy writes Bill back, and sends him those pretty blue slips of paper like the ones I get to put in the offering plate.
I'll probably never understand why adults do the things they do. Like why Mommy and Daddy peek during prayer to keep an eye on me. Or why they smile at me if I sing really loud in church while the piano is playing but clamp a hand over my mouth if I keep going after the piano stops.
But what confuses me most is the look on Daddy's face when I do something grown-up for the first time. He gets all excited and says how proud he is, but then he picks me up, hugs me real tight, and acts like he wants me to stay w forever.
Maybe he can't make up his mind. Or maybe he just really likes being my Daddy.
Colton Ziemba lives in Meridian with his Mom, Dad, horse, cat and dog. His father, Craig, can be heard on WMOX AM 1010 Monday from 7:15 a.m.-9 a.m.