So my baby brother is getting potty-trained, which means he usually wears tiny superhero undies now instead of the diapers he previously sported. And today I’m babysitting. Now, we set these little potty-timers, so that every thirty minutes he has to stop what he’s doing to go potty on the toilet, at which point, if his undies are dry and he manages to actually go in the toilet, he gets a sticker. However, for a busy baby, going potty is an enormous nuisance. He kicks and screams and bites all the way to the bathroom, and cries all the way through going potty until he can get back to what he was doing.

Griff as Mike Wazowski

Who, me?


This means that I’m more lax with him than I should be, so he only goes once an hour or so. That’s about how often I’m prepared to deal with his biting-kicking-scratching full-blown rage tantrums. Two is an awful age. The problem with being lax is that he ends up not being able to go in the potty. Instead, he goes in his pants. Pee is pretty awful, but still okay, hygiene-wise. I mean, I pick up the little undies like they’re covered in contagious plague virus, but I can put them in the laundry, clean up the baby, and get him in new undies without any undue trauma. Today, he decided to take a dump all over the little Green Lantern logo.

Griff and Xan

I would never


That was traumatic. Deeply, scarringly traumatic. He was covered in it, okay, covered in crap, from his bottom to his knees and up his back, and it was awful and sticky and reeked to high heaven. It was everywhere. Including on me. After using half a roll of toilet paper to try and clean him up (I couldn’t find the wipes) he still had poo smeared on him. And he was kind of getting bored with sitting there, so he was being uncooperative. Eventually I just stripped him and put him in the bath. And then drained the bath. And then started another bath, because the first one had little poo nuggets floating in it.

Griff with map

here let me lead you away from the evidence


It was on my hands. On. My. Hands. Ew. And my skirt is soaked from him splashing bathwater on me. He’s clean, now, and dry, and he’s wearing Pull-Ups and I have a timer going for when I need to take him potty again, but still. I have to admit I kind of felt like crying for a while. Well, at least I’m getting paid. (Yay, money!)

Maybe in a bit we’ll bake something, or go to the park. I bet Griffy would love making chocolate chip cookies.

Note: This is why I babysit Griffin more than my sister does.

Griff Swinging

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