I mean this literally--not in an "oh-we-had-a-bad-weekend" kind of way. I mean it in a way that suggests my 3-year old has shat in his pants the past two Saturdays and I've been awoken by a startled and panicked husband asking for help and a bedraggled, wet, stinky child in the shower.
Last week he chose to poo in his pants on the back patio.
This week? He chose to crap his pants during a diligent nap protest.
Both times this led to legs smeared with poo, a bleached tub and child slightly proud to tell of his shit-ventures.
We had to nip this in the bud. Last week, we talked. This week? We had to take action. All day, Ell had looked forward to seeing Glam and Pop, especially since this meant going to a restaurant. Unfortunately, as we explained, we could not trust Ell to actually use the facilities and not sh*t his pants in public. This meant Mommy & Brook-Brook got to visit OTB with Glammy & Poppy while Ell and Daddy stayed behind. With the first explanation, the consequence was accepted. The truth set in as we walked out the door and the composure melted. I'm hoping this consequence sticks in his head, that missing out on Tickle Poppy (what Ell has taken to calling my dad) & Glammy AND eating at a restaurant is enough to remind him that pooping in his pants is not a good way to spend the weekend. Time will tell. Until then, I'll do my best not to mention it. . .and let the consequence speak for itself.
What would you do to remedy the Sh*tty Saturday trend?
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