Surrender

Yes, those are three pairs of little boys' underwear soaking in my bathroom sink. Three pairs of underwear soiled in the course of a single hour. Three times that I have changed my four-year-old son's poopy pants, one after another after another. Three time that I had to fight the urge to scream and vomit, simultaneously.

That's right. We seem to be experiencing a bit of a backslide in the pooping department. A backslide in the backside, as it were. Where is this coming from? He had been doing so well lately. I am at a loss. The child is four years old. Four! What do you do with a four year old who either can't or won't control his bowel movements? And the most annoying part? Every time I voice my frustration, Nicholas agrees wholeheartedly. I say, "Nicholas, this does NOT make mommy very happy." He comes back, deadpan, with, "Yea, I am not happy, too. I am sad." I say, "Nicholas, I can't believe you pooped in your pants." He shakes his head and responds, "I can't believe it either, momma." I say, "Nicholas, this is just gross." He responds, "I know. It's the grossest thing ever." I say, "Nicholas, they will not let kids who poop in their pants go to kindergarten. Do you want Sophie to go to kindergarten without you?" He comes back with, "Momma, what will we do while Sophie is at school?"

I give up. I have come to the conclusion that there will always and forever be poop-stained little boys' briefs soaking in my bathroom sink. They may grow larger as the years go by, but I feeling pretty confident at this point that they will forever remain there. Taunting me. Diego's and Buzz Lightyear's smiling faces ridiculing me from below the surface of the water. Replacing the pleasing scent of my "fresh linen" bathroom spray with the acrid stench of failure. An affront to my parenting skills, or lack thereof.

I admit defeat. I am waving the white flag of surrender....a flag made out skid-marked tighty whities. May you enjoy the spoils of your victory, Nicky. You have earned them.