C. G. Cady Naegle / Family Activities / parenting

How I get my son to eat anything I make

****WARNING!!*****  The below story is not for the faint of heart.  Please proceed with caution.

Tony Crying

Our local bowling alley has a cool “Kids Bowl Free” program.  Every day from March to July, kids get two games of bowling for free.  They just have to pay for their shoes.  If you find bowling shoes at Goodwill for $1.50, it just makes sense to utilize this program.  As a school employee with a schedule that matches the kids, my husband is the one who typically takes the kids bowling.  This past Saturday, though, it was my turn.  As I walked in the bowling alley, I was taken back in time seven years to the first time we went bowling with the kids.

We were visiting my husband’s family and decided bowling was going to be a good time with our combined 6 kids.  The little boys were three years old, and while potty trained, if they said they needed to go, we took it seriously.

This particular bowling alley was in sore need of some cleanup.  Dingy didn’t describe it. I’m not a germophobe by any means, but even I was afraid to touch anything or sit anywhere.  Yet, when my 3-year-old Tony said he needed to go, we didn’t mess around.

After a strong admonition to not touch anything, my husband hurried Tony to the bathroom.  They were in there for longer than normal, but I just expected they were really washing Tony’s hands.  When they came out though, Scott’s face was ashen, and Tony’s red cheeks could only be created by a serious scrub down.  The entire front of his shirt was wet.

I gave my husband the parent-patented “what’s-going-on?” look.    He leaned close and mumbled something in my ear.  I generally have selective hearing when it comes to my husband, so I didn’t catch what he said and requested a repeat.  When he said it again, I was so repulsed I had to laugh.

“He did WHAT?” I burst out.  All eyes turned to me.  “How?”

Secrecy was no longer an option.  He had the entire party’s attention. “Well, we went up to the urinal to pee like a big boy.  He unzipped his pants, but apparently didn’t, um, prep himself well enough.  He started peeing and, well, it went the wrong way!   It got all over his face.  And he really needed to go potty.”

Tony, innately knowing he was on stage, exploded, “Yeah!  It was yucky!” His accompanying laugh was infectious, and he had us guffawing with him.  I now understood his scrubbed face and sopping shirt, knowing how much his father cares about hygiene.

From all my survival training, I knew urine was safe in small doses, but that doesn’t help the gross-factor.  There was not much we could do about it now.  Having gotten a taste of attention, though, any time we turned our heads, Tony was telling people about drinking his own urine.

I believe in looking on the bright side of everything.  This has given me the perfect go-to whenever he says something is gross and can’t eat it.  I remind him of this day and assure him he can ingest anything after this.

Do you think your potty training story can top this?  I doubt it, but you can give it a try by sharing below.

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