Last night we had a wonderful demonstration of non-violent resistance at our house.
Chris decided that it was time for underpants. He's sick of diapers. I'm ambivalent about it. But he's sick of diapers. ... I would dare you to ask who actually changes the majority of diapers in this house, but we're not supposed to keep score.**
Anyway, they bought a set of Pixar big boy underwear yesterday. He was super excited about it until Dad told him they were meant to replace his diaper. Then he freaked. He was afraid he was going to pee in them, and he HATES getting pee on himself
So there was some crying. And there was some refusal to get off the potty. Sometimes when we're hanging out at home, we've just been taking away his diaper and telling him to use the potty if he "gets the feeling", which was great for a while. Then he realized he doesn't have to think about it if he just sits on the potty the whole time. Just in case. So last night, after about an hour of just sitting and refusing to get up, I told him it was time to eat dinner, and he wasn't allowed to 1) eat naked or 2) eat on the potty. He had to put on underpants.
And he said no. And he refused to eat dinner. And at bedtime we put him to bed. Without dinner. And he seemed perfectly at peace with his decision.
He almost refused to eat breakfast the next morning, because we told him he had to put on underpants. But I really really loves Frosted Mini Wheats.
And now Daddy is back at work, so I've been promoted to Underpants Police. It didn't come with a pay raise, or an office.
Also, I dare you to Google Image search "Underpants Police".
I still let him have snack time sitting on the potty. I'm not a monster.
**Just kidding. It's me.