We are still waiting for the call from the cath lab at Texas Children’s Hospital to schedule Colman’s next heart cath. I am hoping I will hear from them by the end of the week, so we can get that on our schedule in the next four to six weeks.
On a fun note, we started potty-training Rowan yesterday. I think two-and-a-half is still a little young, especially for a boy, but his teachers at daycare think he’s ready. He’s really interested in the potty.
(Aren’t all boys?)
(I seem to remember having to call a plumber to the house a number of times because Colman had thrown all sorts of stuff down our toilets, including, but not limited to, Hot Wheels cars, washcloths, legos and wooden blocks.)
So I took six changes of clothes to school yesterday and wished Rowan’s teachers the best of luck. When I picked him up at five o’clock, he was in his last pair of dry pants and a diaper. Needless to say, I am not surprised at how that went, although they did say he went on the potty.
Then this morning I dressed Rowan before I sat him down to eat breakfast. Against my better judgment, I put the little guy in underwear. I should have just put him in a diaper and changed him right before I put him in the car to take the boys to school, but I signed this Potty Training Contract in which I promised to only put him in underwear except right before bed time to avoid confusion.
That was a mistake. He whizzed sometime between eating his cereal and banana. And now he’s wearing Wednesday underwear on Tuesday. I knew I never should have bought day-of-the-week underwear for him. My borderline OCD, Type A personality cannot handle that kind of stress.
I’m just going to pretend it’s Wednesday.