We Have Been Banned From Chinese Food

Because no one should be expected to read a blog post This long without a pretty picture to look at

We started potty training Wyatt about a week ago. Which I consider a little early because he is only two. But I am a firm believer in finding out what will motivate your child and then squeezing every single ounce of use out of it that you can. For Ethan, it was bubbles. Every time he used the potty, he got to go outside and blow bubbles. Simple. Easy to follow up on the reward.
Wyatt is a bit more of a challenge. Which was totally expected. That seems to be his theme in life. Whatever will make life just a little more difficult/messy/deafening for everyone else, do that. And then follow it with a beautiful smile so everyone feels grateful for the challenge/clean-up/ringing noise in their ears.
Wyatt found his own motivation in the form of a girl. I guess puberty hits problem children early.
Ethan decided he was going to marry one of the 4 year old girls at daycare. So Wyatt, in his never ending, and what I am sure will prove to be lifelong, attempt to one-up his big brother, decided to marry Gabby. Let me tell you, he is shooting a little high with this one. Gabby is the teenage daughter of Wyatt's daycare teacher. She is tall, athletic, gorgeous, and I have now decided, very smart. She told Wyatt that she would not marry him until he could go on the potty Every Time. Genius. Motivation.
In an attempt to impress his Fiance, he is really trying very hard. Well that, and he likes the new Lightning McQueen panties I bought him. And yes, Greg is mad that I called them panties ONE time and now Wyatt will not stop calling them that instead of underwear.
He is doing pretty well. It is still early, so accidents happen though.
Last night, I was not in the mood to cook dinner. So I sucked up my courage and decided we were finally going to go back to the Chinese buffet here in town. The last time we were there, Wyatt decided to cough-barf all over the table, the floor, and his clothes. It was a threefer that night---difficult, messy and deafening. We haven't been back in a while.
But last night, for some unknown reason, I couldn't resist the call of the sweet and sour chicken and the sushi bar. You can probably foresee at this point that I am regretting that urge.
It had already been a poop-filled day for me. Starting with the dog poop completely mushed into the incredibly unnecessarily intricate tread on my son's shoe. Then Ethan had a poop incident. I call it an incident because clearly a 5 year old can not be expected to understand the forces of gravity on a cling-on piece of poop. As a 35 year old, however, I understand that E=MC2, and that a soft piece of poop clinging to a child's buttcheek while in the sitting position will become dislodged upon standing and fall at a high rate of speed onto the floor. The rate of speed, while slow enough to leave poop particles along the entire length of leg from buttcheek to ankle, is fast enough to create a giant poop sploosh on the floor. Of a Chinese restaurant.
So understandably, if a bit regrettably, when I caught that unmistakable odor wafting from the backside of the non-diapered child, I told Greg that it was HIS turn to deal with it. Sensing the upcoming violence, Greg stepped in. With maybe a bit too much gusto. He picked up the child with one arm and pinned him to his chest so that he had a free hand. Before I could really understand what was happening or make a move to stop it, he made quick work of removing the shoes, grabbed Wyatt's jeans by one cuff and yanked. Rookie mistake. As a 35 year old, I now also understand that poop unrestrained by a diaper is incredibly aerodynamic. In a Chinese restaurant.