So here's the problem; Beck has no problem getting himself to the potty when he has to go poo (yeah, you're so glad you decided to read this post, huh) when he's at home. Even when we go out, he uses the potty. If he feels a poo comin' on while we're at the movies (yes, usually at the key, critical part of the film) he'll tell us and we play rock, scissor, paper on who has to escort him. All is good.... that is until he goes to pre-school, which is twice a week, where he inevitably comes home in pants that he wasn't wearing when I dropped him off that morning.... every. single. time.
I couldn't understand why he was having poo accidents every day at school. He has a just-his-size potty that he uses there without hesitation and yet he seems to always seize the opportunity to drop a dookie in his pull-ups. I couldn't figure out why he was doing this until one day I walked in to his room to find him spread eagle on the baby changing table while his teacher oohhhed and goo'd at him while she cleaned and powdered his bottom. He was in his GLORY! Loving every moment of it! I shook my head, now I see. As soon as he saw me he got that, 'oh shit' look on his face and hurried his teacher like he had gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
I explained to the teachers that not only does he fully know how to poo in the potty, he also knows how to change his own pull-up. No changing table, no powder, no coo-ing and caa-ing (I know, I'm such a mean Mom!). They were shocked that he possessed these hidden skills. Man, he has them hoodwinked.
But the poo keeps happening. Every day. My husband mentioned that maybe the teachers could just give him a bit of a time-out when he does this, to remind him that he KNOWS how to use the potty. They responded that time-outs are a form of abuse. ABUSE?! WHAT?!!!! No, rinsing crusty poo out of brand new pants is a form of abuse!
So what do I do? He is totally playing them. After all, he's one smart cookie. I really want the back-sliding at school to stop. He knows when he has to go, and he knows it's wrong to poop his pants. No longer do I want to do the walk of shame carrying my son's soiled pants in a plastic grocery bag.
And to make matters worse, we're leaving on a 15 day cruise in a May and he is required to be potty trained in order to join his sister in the kids' club activities! Appearantly Mickey Mouse doesn't hang with kids in poopy pants. And this boy LOVES The big mouse!
Please. Help! Or I'll have to resort to making him watch this, over and over again.
Now THAT'S abuse!