Cars Underwear

It was the most unexpected event of my life.

Jack potty-trained himself.

SERIOUSLY?!?!? This 2-year old, while cute and mostly adorable, has figured out how to torture his mother in most every way. He is constantly throwing things, running outside naked, pouring 20-oz water bottles out in the car, dumping cups of juice in our flower pots and killing my petunias and strawberries, swiping his Nerf sword at me and saying, "I kill Mommy!!" (okay, that IS weird... and I should probably seek counsiling or something), flushing important artifacts down the toilet--including articles of clothing, breaking various electronics, frantically scribbling on the walls and furniture when I'm not looking, hiding food under the couch cusions, getting out of bed atleast 13 times per night, throwing full-out-embarassing tantrums at least three times per sacrament meeting, and so much more.

However, last week he took his diaper off, came up to me (while holding himself in an awkward manner) and shouted, "Pop-tee!" (translation: Potty) then ran into the bathroom, hopped up on the pot, and peed. It was a victory for stressed out mothers everywhere.

While I don't expect him to be perfect at this, I must admit, I have not set timers, given reminders, or done anything for that matter and he's only had three accidents in six days. It's a blessed miracle. 

Boy, do I absolutly love and adore that 2-year-old.