The first 3 days were about the same, with only some minor interruptions...
Did I say minor?
Day 1: Doorbell...loud knocking.
Caleb runs to open the door in his unnawear pants. I suddenly find myself in my favorite TV show: "The Mentalist"! Two DETECTIVES are at my door! (with guns, a notepad, cool sunglasses and badges) I walk outside to answer their questions about some lame-o stealing social security numbers from people I don't know. Suddenly, while still talking to the super cool detectives (and pretending I am on TV), the front door slams shut.
"Oh- that's just my sweet 2 year old. No- it's fine. No- really...don't mind him. He's just potty training today, so he's a little..um..excited."
Then the sound we were all somehow anticipating happened:
Again, me playing it cool (Hey- this was my chance to be the actress I always wanted to be): (Smoothly) "Umm...Okay...well...I'll just tell him to open the door." (Sweetly) "Caleb, honey? Can you please open the door for mama?" (no answer)
The detectives each give a look of both sympathy and relief that they were not responsible for this potty-training-two-year-old.
Super Cool Detective Lady: "Well, we've got all the information we need...You sure you'll be able to get back in?"
Super Cool Me: "Ohh- yeah! Pshh- No big deal! I can just go around back"
Both detectives thank me and leave. I hear the guy whisper..."Wow...KIDS."
Are they gone? Okay good!
"CALEB!!! Oh-PEN THE DOOOR RIGHT NOW!"
(crying from inside) "I hoot my bah-yum, Mama! Kiss it!!"
"I cannot get inside! Caleb, you have to UNLOCK the DOOR!!"
I go around back to find all doors securely locked. (Well, at least I know we're safe inside!) Now if only I could get back inside...
I go back around front, knock and hear sweet running feet again...This time in the direction towards the door.
Needless to say, we didn't make it to the potty on time.
Day 2: Caleb gets a black eye. (No, not from me...Potty training's tough, but not worth fighting about!)
He was simply running to show me a cool new drumming move, he tripped and the end of his "rocking guitar" jammed right into his eye...his first black eye. (Didn't make it to the potty this time either.)
Day 3: He simply refuses.
He runs as far from the potty as possible.
I'm tired and don't choose this battle.
His unnawear pants are wet.
He doesn't care.
He's a boy.
I temporarily quit Potty Training, strap the kids in the car and turn the radio up.