Where does the time go?
Last year, at this time, Quinn was still in diapers, and I had vague notions of toilet training him. Then came September and the realization that he would be going to junior kindergarten the following year. I panicked, and started boot camp potty training my baby. That means no pants and no diapers and setting him on the potty every 30 minutes until he got the idea. And he did - quite quickly, compared to his older siblings. There were a few accidents, but nothing like Miss Aisling's "secret" where she'd hide the soiled underwear in the dirty laundry basket (okay, technically, that's where they belonged, but not in that state) and decline to inform anyone of her accident. There was no hiding in the corner or under a table to go number 2 like his older sister Ceilidh. There were no full on accidents in his underwear that would prompt much cursing from his mother, unlike his older brother Devlin who began to associate *$%** with poop in the underwear.
No, Quinn was quite amenable to toilet training. Ten months later, we've had a few incidents where he waited too long and then became distraught over his "accident". We've also learned the hard way that three juice boxes is one too many for his tummy. To his credit, he did make it to the toilet in time, but the mess he left was one for the record books.
And for some reason, he refuses to stand at the toilet. He prefers to sit, and point his little penis downward. It makes for less mess, except for when he's excited and points to the television instead.
And then there was the time, Mommy had to hold his member down as he needed both hands to balance himself on the huge toilet in the public washroom at the hockey rink. So, there I was, crouched at his level (and very close to disgusting public toilet), holding his pee-pee down and he declares loudly, in the cavernous bathroom, "I love you Mommy" and leans towards me to plant a kiss on my face.
My reaction? "No Quinn, stop, you're going to fall off and pee on Mommy!" He laughed and laughed at the thought.
When I ask him who he belongs to, he always answers "you Mommy" and hugs my legs tightly.
His latest thing? Getting into mischief, or getting caught looking for sweets, and then smiling sweetly and saying "what? I did nothing!" while shrugging his shoulders.
There's barely a month left before he heads off to kindergarten. I'm a little worried - we haven't mastered bum wiping and he really does need a nap during the day. He's not into sandwiches so I haven't a clue as to what will be in his lunch bag.He loves all fruits so maybe we'll just fill his lunch containers with apples, strawberries and grapes. He refuses to drink milk (unless there's chocolate in it) and he still calls it "going to the potty" when he needs the toilet. Daddy's more concerned that no one will understand him given his missing two front teeth. I'm more stressed about his penchant for physical play and his inability to share his toys.
And then there's the classic fall down, kicking his heels and screaming temper tantrums. Very common and normal for a three year old, but not so much for a kid going into kindergarten. His ice skating lessons and foray into gymnastics were cut short by his stubborn streak and refusal to partake in an activity he didn't like. And the fact that I refused to spend another frozen moment at the rink, watching him lie prone on the ice. As for gymnastics, he didn't like to wait for his turn and quickly grew bored with sitting still. Again, not a good sign for school.
He can't quite count past 4 but is cognizant of portion sizes. He can definitely tell when his sister gets a bigger scoop of ice cream.
But he loves to have books read to him, and can recite the story back to you after a few repetitions. He's eager to do "homework" when his older siblings are doing their daily tasks. That's a sign of school readiness, isn't it?
Perhaps, the truth is, that I am not ready to send off my baby to school. He will no longer be my "baby" but my little boy. Soon, the sweet baby scent will be replaced by a slightly stinky sweaty little boy smell. The endless of questions of "why" and what that for" will be replaced with "just cuz" and "later Mom".
Perhaps soon, he'll want to sleep on his own instead of snuggling up next me, or burrowing his little body under my pillow. Then again, perhaps not, since his siblings still need to sleep in Mommy's bed.
