My little boy, he’s seven, he shouldn’t be pooping in the tub. But he is. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to throw myself into a puddle on the floor. I didn’t. Instead I cleaned him up, put clothes on him, and held him on the couch with me. Why, oh why, does this cycle have to keep coming back. Fecal smearing is back, tub pooping is back, and all mixed in with him actually going to the potty. Crying doesn’t solve anything, I tell myself. When I held him on the couch, I reached up to fix his wet hair. He then took his hand, touching his wet hair, he grabbed my hand, and touched his hair; he did this for several times. His expression told me he was trying to process the different feelings. Can you imagine not being able to express those words. He has had wet hair before, but yet this is the first time he really noticed the difference. And maybe, he was figuring out the different sensations from me touching his hair, and him touching his hair. He went on to move it so it was back standing straight up, took my hand again, putting it on top of the same area. I know he has wanted a lot of sensory input lately; he might have felt the touch as I was moving his hair. I, generally, don’t rub his head; maybe I should, or at least try it. He slept through the night. I don’t want to think about that, but I want to revel in the fact that he did. It’s been several nights now. I’m going to keep doing exactly what we are doing. I’m emotional today, he’s in a great mood. He woke asking for his teacher, ready for bowling, after I told him he wasn’t going to see her today, and then wanted to go to church, since it wasn’t bowling day. I’m trying to not think about potty training, letting the events of last night go, once again. I find strength in his smile, I find inspiration in his words, and I find motivation in knowing that today is a brand new day. Life is what you make it, so let’s make it grand. Smiles to all and donut daze!
RSS Feed