Catchy title, huh?
On a recent trip to visit the grandparents, my 3-year-old recently potty-trained toddler (understandably) wanted nothing to do with the “bathroom” (a.k.a. outhouse) at the rest stop. It took some serious negotiating, but I convinced him to go in the grass. Now he drops trou without a moment’s hesitation.
Having grown up as a relatively wild child in back-woods Montana, I’m pretty much okay with this. Except that last night I glanced outside during our home fellowship group and saw him up on the hill in their back yard, pants around his ankles. And today he informed me he was going around the corner to go poo-poo in the yard. Amazingly enough, this I did not foresee. In his defense, it’s probably pretty confusing. But rules are rules. (Or laws are laws, I guess I should say.)