Potty box

This might seem like a digression from my usual posts, but thinking about Asher and the potty box has made me chuckle so many times in the past day that I had to share.

Last summer, freshly potty-trained Asher discovered new highlights at many of the parks we played at here in town. Nope, he didn't squeal with delight over the swings, or race to the top of the slide or scamper up the climbing wall - ok to be fair he did do those things sometimes - but he became infatuated with those intriguing tall skinny brightly colored boxes set off to the side.

Yes, I'm talking about the port-a-potty!

At one particular park, he begged and begged us to let him go into the "potty box" every time we visited. Not knowing if he really had to "go" or not, we erred on the safe side and took him into those plastic breeding grounds for germs. Of course, he didn't listen to our warnings not to touch ANYTHING as he dropped things on the floor and climbed up on the seat to reach the urinal - ew ew ew!!

I had forgotten about that fascination until yesterday at the park. There was a new potty box sitting right by the parking lot and suddenly my son with a bladder of iron had to "go" every 5 minutes. Being a sympathetic mom, I thought he had drank too much water and couldn't help himself so I let him go. But by the fourth time rushing to the potty box within 20 minutes, I became concerned and followed him in. It was then that I recognized his delight over stepping inside the warm glowing room to squeeze out just a few more drops.

That was his last visit to the potty box for the day!
And possibly for the summer.