A new take on potty training

Amid the chaos of work and family life lately, I've noticed a little sub-theme emerging. And sadly, it's all about pee. Not mine, but my three-year-old son's. He's so close to being potty trained that my husband and I each have one thumb on the champagne cork, so to speak.

It's amazing what becomes cause for celebration once you have kids. It's also amazing how pervasive bodily functions become in everyday conversation. This was reinforced earlier this week when I called a friend - a mother of three - and overheard her saying in exasperation "there's no pee in the bathtub!" to her daughter before she could get the receiver to her mouth to say "hello" to me.

Potty training is the Holy Grail of early parenthood. But perhaps my husband and I have pushed the whole "potty training" obsession too far. We must have discussed the phrase one time too many within earshot of the boy. Here's why I say that:

The other evening, as we're wrapping up a family dinner with Grandma ("Ganna") at our house, I notice the tell-tale sign of something amiss — the boy is quiet. I spy him around the corner, leaning a little to the left and shuffling a foot.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Don't look at me," he says.

I know what that means. He's peed in his pants...again.

Daddy cleans him up and the evening continues, until I happen to notice Thomas the Train playing cards on the living room floor. In a puddle. Soaked. And it ain't water.

I grab the rag and cleaner and re-soak everything. My mother looks on in amusement.

Only later does it occur to me: He needed to go to the potty. He saw trains.
Maybe he was "potty training!"

Pop the cork, honey! That's good enough for me!