Dear Jack,
You came up to me when I was making dinner the other night and said, "I just went potty." I sighed and said, "OK, show me where you were standing and let's get you some clean pants."
And then I realized that you meant that you actually went IN the potty.
I am so pleased to say that over the last 4 or 5 days, we've crossed over to the other side of potty training. The side in which you wear underpants more than diapers. The side in which you go without me having to tell you. Sure, there are still occasional accidents (actually, three this morning when we had company over). And you still wear a diaper at night time and nap time. But we're headed in the right direction.
This morning, I got really frustrated with you when you had a potty accident. We had friends over at the time, you wet your pants and then Ben spit up all over me. I handed Ben off and took you to the bathroom and apologized for not being as kind as I should have been. After all, it was an accident.
Sometimes I say things that I shouldn't and react in ways that I shouldn't. You don't deserve that and I always wish I could take those times back. I always apologize and you tell me that you forgive me. My hope is that you won't remember me getting mad as much as you will remember my apology, and that you won't remember feeling bad as much as you will remember forgiving me.
You're becoming independent in more areas than I can count. You pretty much dress yourself in the morning, but I usually have to remind you that the tag goes in the back. Your response to that is usually, "But then how can I read it?" When we leave the house, you often insist on putting your own shoes on, as well. Which means we have to add about 20 minutes extra to our "getting ready" time.
Before your brother came along, I always used to tell you that you were my favorite. And in some ways, you still are. You're my favorite 2-year-old. My favorite oldest child. My favorite Jackson. You're the only one there will ever be.
I love you so much.
Mama
No comments:
Post a Comment