But do look out: apparently during the night shift, pants are optional.

I woke up this morning at 4:30. Not all that unusual: about time for me to relieve the ever occupied bladder for the third time before getting up in the morning. But it was unusual in that I realized: “Hey. The bladder’s not full. But I am awake. Why?” (Actually, this is a much more logical, rational version. It was more along the lines of “Tired. Awake. Why? Whywhywhy?!! I will never sleep through the night again! ARGH!!!” Nighttime Dren’s a little dramatic).

Then I heard it. A voice. Coming from my doorway.

“Piscerman!”

It was JJ. Holding out something. I fumbled for my glasses. It was a pull-up. A pull-up being held in front of his half-naked body.

Why? . . .

See, we’ve embarked on the grand experiment of potty training: an experiment in that it’s a test to see who will remain in control/lose it first - JJ and his bodily functions or Mama and her sanity. He’s got peeing down pat - even in public restrooms where he can barely keep his buns from hitting the water. Pooping, not so much. It’s more of an optional, recreational activity - something to engage in when he’s bored or has time in his oh so busy “being Bob the Builder and trying to fix a house or farm or building on moving land, a.k.a. the dog.”

We’ve had many conversations about pooping.

“Do we poop in our pants?”
Together: “No!”
“Where does poop go?”
“In the paaaah-tee!”

And then ten minutes later the load has been deposited in his pants, which is a little appropriate since it is Bob the Builder underwear and can he fix it? Yes, he can.

I haven’t even thought about training him at night at this point. Many toilet training advocates will tell you of the evils of Pull-Ups (that they don’t help the child sense when they are wet; that they fill up landfills; that evil dictators of the world used Pull-Ups as children and that’s where their parents went wrong). But that’s what JJ wears at night, because it helps him sleep, which helps me sleep, and really, it’s all about keeping the mama happy.

So, JJ’s standing with his Piscerman pajama top on (that’s Spiderman to the common folks. He’s still putting his “s’s” in interesting places, although he can say “Superman.” Go fig.), nothing on the bottom, holding his pull up (which happens to have Piscerman on it as well - yay for movie marketing). And I’m not thinking good thoughts.

“Mama bafroom peese.”

I haul his patootie and throw him on the toilet, not easy to do with a big ol’ lump of a belly at 4:30am. He didn’t pee, which is unusual. I praise him anyway: “Yes, JJ, this is what you do when you wake up and have to use the bathroom. Good job!” Then I question: “Um, where are your pants?”

He jumps off of the toilet, runs to my room, and pulls them out from almost under my bed . . . the head of my bed, like by my pillow. Man, Piscerman really has silent mad skills. And how long had this kid been awake? Roaming around? Using the bathroom (which is why he didn’t need to pee with me). Playing in my room? . . .

So never fear, kind folks of the blogosphere: Piscerman is on the job. But be forewarned: he may not be fully clothed - no one said you had to wear clothes to fight crime.

JJ Jawings