Brick

Last week we learned something shocking about the minions.  It was a regular Friday afternoon at daycare pick up, I was loading the Molly into the car (aka the "Sexfire") and Chris ran into the building with Jack in his arms to sign the kids out of the fire log and pick up the shirts that Molly had drooled through.*  Chris was standing at Molly's cubby retrieving the above mentioned saliva soaked t-shirts when one of the daycare staff approached him.

"Jack is doing really well on the toilet." She said simply.

Chris responded with a blank look, dumbfounded and eventually said.

"This Jack?" as if she'd just mentioned that he'd mastered playing Brahms Rhapsody in B Minor.

"Don't you read the notes?"

BUSTED.

Hail to the King Baby!

She gave Chris a disappointed head shake and explained that they were toilet training our children unbeknownst to us.  Apparently Molly is doing just fine as well, but Master Jack has mad toilet skills.**  We knew that our kids would potty train in the senior toddler room, we just didn't know when and I sort of thought they'd hand us a manual when they started.  Something like, "It's time to wish away the diaper genie" or "Welcome to urgent bathroom trips and lots of accidents"

Daycare leaves notes each day on what the kids eat, how long they nap for and a diaper diary.  I usually skim the nap schedule to foresee any evening meltdowns as well as how much they've eaten that particular day so I can determine whether or not I need to stuff them like they're Hansel and Gretal so they don't keep us up all night starving.  Chris and I usually ignore the diaper diary unless we suspect the minions are ill or it says in giant bold print "BRING IN MORE DIAPERS".

When Chris told me what had happened it explained a few recent events.  The other night, right before bath time Jack started playing with the toilet seat.  I am extremely paranoid because of several incidents from my childhood involving toilet clogs*** so I shut the lid and moved him away.  He proceeded to pee all over the ground beside the bath, which I suppose is better than the alternative inside the bath.  Parenting fail on my end.

So I guess we're potty training now.  Weird.  Now every day, after hours at work deciphering business acronyms we've entered the world of SOT (sat on the toilet) and POT (peed on the toilet).  I still don't know the code for number two (SHOT??)

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*Molly teething creates saliva akin to aliens Kang and Kodos from The Simpsons.
**One can assume that he inherited from my father who has a full on book caddie in his washroom that would rival many libraries.
***My brother once (as a toddler) flushed my giant novelty soap in the shape of a Toucan down the commode and another time our dog Max thought it would be a good idea to ram his Kong chew toy down the toilet.  Both resulted in the removal of the toilet seat and a lot of swearing from my father.