Well, thanks to a suggestion, we are trying something new tonight. Jason used duct tape around the diaper. Maybe now he will learn he has to tell us if he wants his diaper changed.
Chinese Fire Drills
There was something really dumb that I am sure a lot of us did when we were young immature teens when we subconsciously thought we were invincible. Just to show random strangers how crazy and spontaneous you were, and to get a rush of adrenaline, as you approached a red light you would suddenly yell "Chinese Fire Drill". It didn't matter who called it, everyone was forced to participate in this sudden race. Even if you didn't want to, but someone else threw their car door open and started to run to your side you had to immediately partake or the light would turn green and you'd block the intersection. Suddenly you were driving someone else's car or sitting in someone else's seat and the car screech's forward so as to not hold up traffic and your heart is racing and everyone's laughing and someone usually yells, 'we're so crazy!' as if it is a sense of accomplishment. 'Yep, I'm so crazy and cool I just ran around the car in a busy intersection and its 10 degrees outside and I almost fell on the ice' isn't that awesome? Never mind the poor grandma in the Buick next to you having heart palpitations thinking your friend in the hoodie was running towards her to rob her. I'm not sure how this teen tradition came to be. There must be something naturally ingrained in select individuals that seek that rush of adrenaline. Those people are the whistle blowers that start it. Then there is the rest of us that are dumb enough to follow along. Cruz is a whistle blower and I am the idiot, at least it feels that way, and the Chinese Fire Drill is the closest comparison I can think of right now to explain our latest situation.
Cruz is no respecter of time, schedule, location, or emotion. If he decides it's time for some action, he does it. He has at times left the room, at times snuck up behind me, at times just turned his back and with no provocation he pulls his pants down, rips his diaper off and does one of two things. He either poops on the floor or he pulls a poopy diaper off and gets poop all over himself and the floor. Its hard to explain the initial reaction that I have. In the beginning, a few months ago, we thought, 'oh little Cruzie doesn't know what he's doing. Maybe he's just trying to start potty training and doesn't know how to do it.' That was 189 times ago. If he didn't know the first 17 times that it was wrong, he learned quickly. He has been able to pee in the potty on occasion with assistance and has done it at school but hasn't mastered it yet. I just kept questioning myself on how to train him correctly, how to teach him about how we use the toilet (or just keep the diaper on). One day I was getting ready to run errands and leave him with a nanny, who he loves, and he told me 'no'. I gently affirmed that mommy would be home really soon but I had to leave for a little bit. He proceeded to rip his diaper off with eyebrows raised. In his own right, minus words, he was challenging me. He might as well have raised a fist, or blown a whistle. In that moment I knew that this little weasel had been trying to manipulate me the whole time. Just Thursday morning it happened right as we were about to head out the door. The bus would be here to pick him up for school in 5 minutes and what happens? He poops, rips the diaper off, smears it across the rug on his floor and then calls, 'mommy'. Like an early valentine present he stands proudly over his steaming gift of love that he expressly gives me almost every day now. Not a hint on his little face indicting remorse or guilt. Not the slightest hesitation in calling mommy to come see his work. Like his abstract painting just got invited to The Louvre. Beaming from ear to ear and he swayed back and forth waiting to see my response. Thus, everything comes to a screeching halt, as I know that the timer has started. There is but only a few moments to get his body cleaned up, keep Wren and Franklin away from it, get the poop cleaned up, redress him and have him outside waiting for the bus. This morning before church Cruz completely undressed himself from head to toe, removed diaper, and peed on the carpet. This afternoon he went into our bedroom and pooped all over the hardwood floor. I'm talking in the cracks and crevices, smeared on a sham that was on the ground, everywhere. It was everywhere, all over him and any item within a 2 step radius. The imaginary siren sounds and like a cartoon on a submarine its 'ALL HANDS ON DECK'. Jason peeled his shirt off (it was the only article of clothing left on him) and threw him in the shower, I ran and got the paper towels and cleaning supplies. Wren sat up on mommies bed watching wide eyed and repeatedly saying, 'uh oh' and 'oh no'. Franklin had to get in the mix and between running back and forth to the trash, kids in and out of the way, in all the chaos, we are just baffled why he keeps doing this. He was spanked and then placed in the quiet corner for time out and wasn't allowed to talk or move during that time. We are literally baffled. Today had been a great day, time spent together as a family, a great lunch and he even got to have a piece of cake... it was stacking up as a pretty awesome day for a three year old. Again, we find ourselves plunged into panic mode by the simple direction of a 29 pound, skinny as a rail, bobble headed little boy. (I say that because his weight is in the 10% percentile and his head is in the 95th% for kids his age) We don't want to play his games, we don't want to stop what we are in the middle of what we are doing, and we definitely don't want to miss the bus or any other event we are headed to. Until we can resolve this problem, we stand ready for the call of duty for the next time he decides he's ready to blow the whistle.
