Do I really want to say this out loud?

You may not want to read this post. It's going to be a little gross. But not as gross as the maggotty thing I had to remove from the back porch last week. The exterminator called it "nature at it's best" and offered gloves, while keeping a distance. "I hate maggots" he said, "but if you've got 5 kids I guess you can handle anything." I hate maggots too, but that's not the point. This post will not be as gross as that thing was, I promise, but really it's not for those who have not potty trainned someone recently.
Simon has the mechanics down. He has a plethora of rewards in place. Thus far, he hasn't had the moment where he realizes why he should care about using the potty. Sure stripes on karate belts are fun. Candy is fun (it also makes moms chubby, so we're cutting that one out.) Surprise packages in the mail are alluring, to older siblings. Not to the young one though. But today he figured out why he cares about using the potty. And it is painful to admit.
I hesitate to document it, but there are those who will wonder why he is in diapers again.
You see as of late, he has become a nudist. He loves to run through the house naked. Or play with his fisher price people, lounging in his skin. I really try to keep him in clothes and it's only once every few days that it becomes one of those "laughing wildly while I try to dress him" times. So I have not been too concerned. You may remember Amelia going through this phase at the age of 3 (or 4) when she loved to hide and pop out at people naked (mostly me, I think.) She loved the shock value.
So it is with a little apprehension that I admit that he reminds me of Amelia and it is with much reluctance that I admit that they both remind me of myself as a kid. (when Simon attempted to eat a bag of brown sugar for breakfast this morning, I think I would have joined him, if I was about 28 years younger. I don't think I would have chased my siblings around covered in brown sugar slime though.)
But I digress. Because that pales in comparison to tonight's display. He ran around in nothing but underpants after his bath (pull ups, please- he's not ready for briefs.) I told him to get dressed.
I was not surprised a few minutes later he ran past stark naked- (sometimes I feel like a Charlie Brown grown up- like what I intend to say comes out as that "wa wa wa" sound that no one can understand, much less obey.)
I was totally unprepared for what he gleefully yelled as he ran past. "Look at my bottom! Look at my bottom!" He shouts in a sing song voice as he chases Jonny (always the victim- sigh) Jonny is of course running for his life because he DID indeed look at his bottom. So I look too. and there it is- what Simon calls his "poop tail." I refuse to allow poop as a weapon. I have to draw the line somewhere. So here is the line:
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Pass the diapers, please.