The Chicken Nugget was recently potty trained, and while this was cause for much rejoicing on the part of Sister #1, I, for one, am saddened about the ordeal, because I no longer have the cause to ask him the question, “Did your dupa explode?”* Ronnie Bass better start speaking soon, is all I have to say.
Now, I don’t remember being potty trained myself, but given that I use the bathroom on a daily basis, let’s just go ahead and assume that I was. I’m pretty sure that my mom did not use the seemingly de rigeur method, wherein one gets a pebble of candy for every successful potty use. I think I would have remembered if my mom had bribed me with candy (or, more likely, potato chips) to do something. Usually I am the one bringing her food items to do something for me.
“Mom, I’ll buy you a bottle of wine if you drop me off at the train at fool o’clock in the morning on Friday.”
Anywho, this M&M method is apparently how my sister and brother-in-law got the Chicken Nugget out of diapers and into ScoobyDoo skivvies, though technically speaking it was chocolate chips, not M&Ms. Either way, it inspired a Very Serious Dedication in the Chicken Nugget, and potty training? Potty training is not something to joke about, Aunt Molly. And neither are chips.
As I was getting Chicken Nugget ready for bed on a recent babysitting expedition, we carefully went through the steps of his new, improved, diaper-free bedtime routine.
“Are you all done?” I asked as he finished at the potty.
“Great. Pull up your drawz and let’s wash your hands.”
“They’re not drawz, Aunt Molly. They’re underwears.”
“Oh. Sorry. Well, pull up your underwears and let’s rock and roll.”
“I want my chip.”
Ermmm….Huh. Think quickly, Aunt Molly. The chips were All The Way Downstairs. And Aunt Molly Is Lazy.
“Well, you’ve already brushed your teeth. And we’re all out of chips. And Mommy will give you a chip in the morning,” I replied, Totally Lying About The Chips Part. And The Handout Of Chips In The Morning Part.
Cue toddler glare.
Cue Innocent Aunt Molly stare right back.
Cue distraction with one more (okay, two) more storybook readings, and call it a day.
The next morning, Chicken Nugget had thankfully seemingly forgotten about his promised chip, and crawled onto the pullout couch with me so he could get his daily fix of that red and furry megalomaniac kids are obsessed with who, IMHO, doesn’t hold a candle to Grover. WHAT?
Wide awake and needing to get ready for work, I threw off the covers and eyed my nephew, who had one eye on the television, and one eye on me.
“I’ll be right back, man. Aunt Molly has to go potty.”
Chicken Nugget nodded his approval of this measure, and then turned and said in his most solemn manner, “Don’t forget to give yourself a chip when you’re done.”
I swear I heard sarcasm in his three-year-old voice when he said it.
Smart, that one. Very smart.
*To which he replied NO, 99 percent of the time, even though even the dullest senses of smell would tell you otherwise.