Well the pacifier-less child has survived. She seems to be taking it pretty well. We are getting ready for night three but it seems ok. The potty training, on the other hand, well let's just say the wife says 'No Mas'. The little demon seed is not ready. How do we know he is not ready you ask? Let me recount my wife's day as told to me through a series of phone calls at work. (Not for the timid).
Son of Satan is up at a decent hour and has already voided his bladder in his diaper. Great. Time for undies. He is wardrobed with the latest in Cars style or Thomas The Tank Engine style, I am not quite certain. Regardless, wifey waits a while and attempts to put the little man on the pot. Well she is met with screams and cries and stubbornness. She lets the little man go play and tries this a couple more times. She then makes the mistake of tending to other children and the hellion drops his pants and pisses all over my kitchen chair. (Hope you don't get that chair on poker night guys). Time for the corner for the man. Hours pass, still resistance on the throne. He watches a little cartoon on the boob tube and uses his undies as a porta john. Game over. Round one to the beast. I am off after tomorrow for a couple weeks, so maybe I will attempt round two. Like Ivan Drago once said, "I must break you".
If you haven't gotten your Christmas card from me yet, then obviously I hate you. No, seriously, I have them made out but have yet to get stamps. I tried today but my local Bloom was out and the Post Office was a show. No chance I was waiting in that line. Maybe tomorrow. I will give you a preview. They say Merry Christmas.
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