My hamper floweth over

So we've been going forward with the whole potty training thing. He wears diapers to school and bed, and undies the rest of the day. He still needs to be reminded to go, but he can usually do it all independently. Last night and today at nap, he had accidents because diapers were forgotten, but most of the time his Thomas undies stay dry.

Today, I was in the office helping Pierce with his homework, and I heard Max toot. I remembered he still had his diaper on from school, and told him we would go sit on the potty and try to go poopy when I was done helping Pierce. He hasn't done that particular thing yet, and I thought I would read him a book while he sat there.

As I am admiring Pierce's picture of a baby giraffe, I hear a grunt from behind me. I turn around and see Max clutching the side of the train table.

--"Max! Are you pooping?"
--"No, I just tooted."
--"Well, lets go sit on the potty and see if you need to go poopy." I untape his diaper, pull it out, and hear a (I wish I could say it was unfamiliar) "SPLAT".
--Max says "What's that?"
--"It's poopy Max, you poopied."
--"No I just tooted."

Alright people, I know he is still young, but I really don't want to give up on this. Pierce was almost three when he was finally trained, but that was different. He was freaked out by it all. Even at one, Pierce would only poop in his diaper in his room. We would return from a weekend trip, and he would run to his room to take care of business. When we first tried potty training, he wouldn't even sit on the potty. His legs would straighten stiff as boards and he would scream.

Max? He's just lazy. And I know some say "don't worry, it's not like he'll go off to college wearing diapers." But Max? I could totally see him doing that! I'd get a call "Hey mom? I'm in biology, and I'm going to need you to come change me."

And what kind of woman is going to marry a man in pull-ups? Not the kind I would want for daughter-in-law, I'm sure.

Anyway, I'm going to keep trying, up the positive reinforcement, increase the frequency of prayers, and prepare myself for some super icky accidents.

BUT...
If all of this should possibly, though very unlikely, not work, and I should possibly, though very unlikely, cave...no one, and I mean NO ONE is allowed to in any way rub it my face. Okay? I thought so.

now this is all too funny - and reminded me that I was supposed to pick up a potty seat, undies and some form of sweet nummy goodness to bribe Peanut with...oh well, maybe tomorrow:)

oh i will so be rubbing it in your face. i will i will i will i will