So, we're still in the throes of potty-training at home. Happily, Max is fully trained at school. At this point, it's a battle of wills (Max's, Dave's and mine) and codependency (Max's).
The other night, before bathtime, I asked Max to sit on the potty. He did, grudgingly.
"Gooooooo!" he said, pointing to the door.
He wanted me out of there.
I left, but hovered in the shadows.
Max got up after about 30 seconds. No tinkling sound whatsoever, at least that I could hear. I watched him peer out the door.
"Max, did you go?" I asked, startling him.
"YESSSS!" he said. And then, as I walked toward him, he turned around and flushed the toilet.
Now, I guess he could have gone very softly, except (to be graphic) there was no pee on the seat as there usually is.
Max was trying to pull a fast one on me.
As warped as it may sound, it made me a little happy. You need a certain level of cognition to be wily like that, and Max had achieved it. He knew he needed to cover up his tracks (or lack thereof).
I stared at him. "Max," I said, "I am not really sure you did go in the potty. I am not sure that's the truth. But I know you will go tomorrow!"
And I left it at that. Now, if tomorrow he tells me that he's not the one who finished all the chocolate ice-cream, he's gonna be in trouble.
