Teaching is a big part of being a parent. At times, it’s effortless. A question is asked or a situation arises and a teaching moment happens that is meaningful for both you and your child.
[insert sound of squealing brakes]
The reality of teaching my boys certain behaviors requires repetition. Repetition to the point of insanity. One particular behavior drives up my blood pressure like no other… pee on the seat.
[insert image of messy commode]
For better or worse, I am the major caretaker of our home. I don’t like cleaning things, but understand the necessity and the inner peace that comes with a tidy abode.
I have not counted how many times I’ve corrected this lazy and disrespectful act of boyhood, but it’s a boatload. Plus, when the boys close the bathroom door, all weirdness can ensue. (See OM :: The Cat Door) Over the weekend, I had reached my limit and had to insert my husband between me and the six-year-old to save him from my wrath. This was hubby’s training tactic:
I don’t know how effective a note over the toilet will be, but I’ve already heard one of the boys remark, “Oh yeah! I forgot about the note until just now.”
[insert sound of flushing toilet, and later, a mother’s groan of defeat]
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