Rusty was up in the hallway, outside the bathroom door, yelling, “Doo doo. Doo doo.”
I thought maybe we’d had a break-through. Maybe this one would potty train himself by age 2. Maybe this one wouldn’t be hard. Maybe he was ready.
As I hurried over to help my way-ahead-of-his-brothers-in-the-potty-training-department son, I was a little let down.
He wasn’t asking to use the potty.
He isn’t going to potty train himself by age 2.
Rusty was playing with Scooby Doo.