David's Angel

Mary Louise had another rehearsal last night. It was from 4 to 6 which is usually our "dinner / bath / story" time. Brent worked a little late and David was really needing some one on one ta ta time so he went to our neighbor's house for dinner. She's very nice - lives by herself and loves the kids to come for a visit every so often. Last night, David "helped" her bake a cake and they made cookies together.

When we all got home, it was a rush to get food in bellies and ready everyone for bedtime before major melt downs began. In the middle of the muddle, David sort of decided to sit on the potty...ok - it went a little like this:

Brent (changing a dirty diaper): C'mon man. You've gotta start at least TRYING to use the potty. Just try it - if you need to go, try to go to the potty. It's time David. You know you're going.

David: No stanks. My can't want to go to da potty.

They were both sort of right...David does know when he's going - at least when it comes to pooping. He even knows how to isolate his abdominal muscles when it's "time". He does, however, associate the actual toilet with unpleasantness related to a history of chronic gastric issues, medications, surgeries and discomfort. This is our hurdle - and right now, he "dus can't want" to let his history go.

Anyhow, after a bit of fussing, and walking around without a diaper. David came to me with a worried look and request: Mommy? My need a diaper pweese.

Me: no, I think we should go together and try to use to potty.

David protested. I won - and by that I mean I got to sit on the floor of the bathroom thinking of ways to praise the act of pooping as the designated defecation cheer leader. Awesome.

We sat for the better part of an hour. David was exhausted - but cooperating so I went with it. He got up 3 times, and 3 times came back for another "go".

There he was, eyes drooping, but still trying. He was doing everything he was supposed to - and I asked if he was ready to quit for the night - praising his efforts and saying we would take up where we left off tomorrow. Then, the strangest, most striking words came out of that child's mouth. He was still sitting on his (uhem) throne but just about ready to give into starting the rest of his bed time routine:

David: Mommy? My angel said I need to go to sleep now. (he'd just returned from a walk to the kitchen for another round of "Can he FINALLY use the dang toilet????")

Me: (slowly - I'm sure with shock on my face - oddest feeling) Well your angel might be right - but can you tell me where you saw your angel? (heart pounding)

David: In da window. He has all kinds of colors - yike my no-fake.

Me: really? colors?

David: yeah. Colors - yike da no-fake arm-a-ment from Mere.

(Mere gave the kids some pretty little snow flake ornaments that act as prisms. They loved hanging them on the tree - and love to look at the colors they throw when the light is just right.) I had called for Brent who was now in the door way.

Brent: What's going on?

Me: David said his angel told him to go to sleep now.

Brent: Sounds like my kind of angel.

Me: David can you tell Daddy about your angel?

David: (a little annoyed about repeating) he's colored like my NO-FAKE!

Brent: so it's a boy angel? What's his name?

David: Yeah - he's just yike me. He's angel Da-bid.

Even after Brent pointed out that (bear with me) David's name was in fact David, David still assured us that his angel was "just like him", had told him "to go to sleep now" and was named "Angel David".

I could force a fit in so many ways with this...but I need the story to just be written like it happened for now. If it never happens again, if Angel David is never again mentioned, we had our moment. I know, right then, we were a family - toilet and all. ha.

P.S. no - David is not any more interested in potty training today than he was yesterday - or any other time he's refused to take his "rightful spot". In fact, as it's been in the 80's here lately, if you see a bare bottomed little boy running around our yard and playing in the hose, never you mind. It simply means I dus can't want to clean another super stinky man poop off my kid and just need a break. ***sigh*** I haven't forgotten my NICU promise though - I'm still proud he can poop at all. Yes. Proud - so no mistaking my mild frustration for anything other than, "I know you - I know you can do this. Please know yourself and know that you can do this, David. You can (succeed) - but you have to make the decision to try."

xo,
Heather