Ryan came in my room this morning at 6:50, drenched and needing to go to the bathroom. He somehow made it to bed without a pull-up on (that would be victory, Ryan. His new thing is "going commando" under his jammies, we have to watch him closely. Ugh. I do, however, consider it a small victory for me. I needed to change his sheets yesterday, but opted not to because of the "clean sheet curse"--you know, you change the sheets and the kid either has an accident or throws up within 24 hours. Never fails, so I feel like I beat the system.). I took him potty and then put underwear on him and put him back in bed (he still looked sleepy, so I crossed my fingers and left). At 7:30 Anna-Kate knocked on my door holding Ryan's underwear that he had given her (and she said, "I just don't know why Ryan brought me his dirty underpants. This is kinda yuck, huh?" Um, ya.) There was a ball of poop in them. I was highly annoyed, but when I went to dump it, found that he had finished in the potty, so I couldn't be too upset. He doesn't get wiping yet though, so they had some skids. Thus, pair of undewear #2 of the day were put into the dirty clothes basket at 7:30 am.
I rounded out the morning with a 3rd unsuccessful school visit/interview. Sigh.
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