"I have to go potty!" Toby yelled back urgently.
I raised my eyebrows to Matt and shrugged my shoulders, "He has to go potty. It's his third day of potty training. Who cares if he takes his pants off before he gets to the bathroom? We'll work on the proper order of things later."
Toby was doing amazingly well to have the physical ability, mental know-how, and desire to perform so well so soon after having been introduced to the potty. I wasn't about to make things more complicated for him. Silly Matt, what does it matter, anyway?
Sunday morning our small church family was gathered together for an all-ages Sunday School class, as we often do during the summer. The kids didn't mind joining the adults since we were watching a movie about the life of Gladys Alyward, a missionary to China.
Partway through, the leader paused the movie and asked if I would read a passage from a biography that described how Gladys was asked to intervene in a prison riot. I began to read the tense narrative, but suddenly choked on my words when my peripheral vision caught sight of my son. He had stripped off his navy blue shorts and his pink princess pull-up and was on his way to the bathroom on the other side of the room. "Um...Matt!" I tried to whisper discreetly.
Matt quickly scooped up the half-naked Toby and walked briskly to the bathroom, explaining, "Sorry, we've been working on potty training at our house." A quiet chuckle swept through the room, and I continued reading, but the laughter welled up inside me, and snuck out a couple of times.
No comments:
Post a Comment