"What's in it for me?" or How I Got Owned by a 3 Year Old

We have been somewhat trying to potty train Will for a while now.  He's 3 and a half years old and for the most part won't go near the potty.  He can write his name and other letters, he can put on his own shoes, he can run, climb and jump, and speak in full sentences, but he still insists on peeing and pooping in his pants.  He's fiercely stubborn, and Mark and I have learned that there's no forcing the issue.  We just do our best to give him incentives (M&Ms, playtime on Mommy's iPhone) and every now and then they work and he will go at least sit on the potty.  And then nothing happens. After a couple of minutes he pulls up his Lightning McQueen pull-ups, takes his incentive, and triumphantly goes on his way, leaving us to grapple with our feelings of inadequacy as parents and a vague gnawing sensation of getting owned.

Friday, however, we had a breakthrough and he actually peed in the potty!  It was a great (albeit messy) victory with much ado and many M&Ms given in celebration.  He was proud of himself and talked quite a bit about what a big boy he was now.  I let him wear big boy underwear afterwards and talked to him about not getting them wet or messy by letting Mommy know when he felt like he had to "go".  He agreed to this plan.

About an hour later, he looked up at me and said, "I want to put on a pull-up."

Now, why would he ask for a pull-up unless he wanted to USE it?  I was determined not to give in so easily.  This is the conversation that ensued:
Me: "Why, Will?"
Will: "I just want a pull-up!"
"Do you need to pee?"
"No."
"Do you need to poop?"
"NO!"
"Why don't we go upstairs and you can put your poop in the potty?"
"NO!"
"Okay Will, what's it going to take to get you to poop in the potty? M&Ms?"
"No."
"I'll let you play on my phone."
"No!"
Desperate, I pulled out the big gun: "I will give you a new toy."

This caught his attention. He paused.
"What kind of toy?" he asked.

What KIND of toy?  Was my 3 year old child really trying to NEGOTIATE with me the terms of his potty usage?  I suddenly felt the pressure to put up or shut up, like I was in a high stakes poker game.  I may have started to sweat.
I remembered a Spiderman toy I had bought about a year and a half ago for a boy's birthday party we ended up missing.  I'd held onto it, thinking it would come in handy for another party eventually - certainly not ever thinking it would be used as leverage to get my son to poop on the toilet.

"A Spiderman toy," I said.
"Let me see it," he said. 

LET ME SEE IT?  Really? Who was the parent here? (A question I have to ask myself far too often.)

"No," I said.
"I want to see it!"

Surely you see the desperation of my situation.  There was no other way.  What would you have done?  DON'T JUDGE ME.

I ran upstairs, got the Spiderman-riding-some-sort-of-all-terrain-vehicle toy, still in its clamshell packaging, and brought it downstairs. 
"Here it is," I said. "But I won't open it and you can't even touch it until you go poop on the potty."
"PEE on the potty," he said.
"No, when you POOP on the potty for the first time, I'll give it to you."
Ha! See, I AM the parent here!
He took a good look at the toy.  He seemed excited, even giddy.  Or maybe I imagined that.
"Now, do you want to go to the potty?"
"No."
And he went back to playing in the living room.

A few minutes later he soaked himself with pee. I took him upstairs, stripped him down, and he refused to put on more underpants. So a pull-up it was.  A half hour later he pooped it.  As I was changing him, he said, "When I poop on the potty, I'll get the Spiderman toy!"
Yes, Will. Yes you will.

Looking back, I think my fatal mistake was caving to the "Let me see it!" demand.
Mark and I have decided Will will probably grow up to be a great political negotiator.  Or maybe tyrannical despot of a third world country. 

Thank you, Mater.

We went for a small hike in the woods at Kennesaw Mountain today.  As we were walking along we saw three deer picking their way through the forest.  I quickly pointed them out to the kids and told them they had to be quiet so they wouldn't scare them away.  After a few minutes I picked up Will and we all continued on our way.  Will started whispering to me, "Shh, make sure to be quiet.  We have to be quiet.  We have to be quiet so we can sneak up on them." "Sneak up on the deer?" I whispered back. "Yeah, we have to be quiet so we can sneak up on them and blow our horns."
If you haven't seen Disney Pixar's "Cars" movie you may not get why he said this.  Go on YouTube and look up Cars Tractor Tipping and you'll get it.
I was laughing so hard I had to put Will down.  I told Mark the story, which Will overheard then looked at me like I was stupid and said, "They're NOT tractors!"

That's scary! Tell me again ...

Little kids get scared easily.  But as they start getting older, you see them starting to kind of, just ever so slightly, enjoy the thrill of things that are scary. Witness my interaction with Will this past week ...

Will likes me to sing the "Hush Little Baby" song to him (you know, the one about the mockingbird) when I tuck him in at night.  If I try to sing something different, he quickly interrupts and says, "No, Mommy. Hush Baby."  He likes all the different things Mama's gonna get the little baby in the song.  One night after the song he sighed deeply and said, "I wish I had a mockingbird."

Anyway, I guess about a week ago, when Daddy had to tuck Will in because Mommy wasn't home, Daddy sang the "Rock-a-Bye Baby" song.  This song freaked Will out a bit.  I know because when it was my turn again the next night, he made sure to be clear, "Sing the Hush Baby song. NOT the Cradle song. Dat's a scary song. Cuz there's da baby and da tree falls and da baby falls and ..."  He accompanied his description with emphatic gestures of the baby falling out of the tree and finished with "Dat's a SCARY song."

Message received, Will. In our house, we do NOT sing the Cradle song. Except ... well ...

Tonight, when I started singing Hush Little Baby, he stopped me, and said, "Sing da Cradle song. Dat's a scary song."  I was a little confused, so I double-checked, "You mean where the baby falls out of the tree?"  And again, with emphatic gestures, "Yeah, and da cradle and da wind and da baby falls out of da tree."

So I sang it.  And Will's eyes got wide.  And when the song was over, we had to discuss again how scary that song was, and again with the emphatic gestures and re-telling of the horrible story of the baby that falls out of the tree. And then he was content.  Kisses, hugs, and five minutes later he was asleep.

Well, I tried.

It's a beautiful morning.  The thermometer on my deck says it's only 70 degrees - the real heat of the day has not set in yet.  I open the door from the kitchen to the deck to get some fresh air inside while I make coffee.

Then Will comes in, all happy and bouncy.  I scoop him up and walk outside with him, and in my best, soft-whispery, sing-song Mommy voice I say:
"Look at this beauuutiful morning! Take a deep breath. [I take a deep breath.] The air is fresh and cool.  The golden sun is shining through the trees.  There's a small breeze.  All is still and quiet except for a few birds in the distance.  Isn't it lovely?"
And Will whispers back, "Yeah. Can I go back in now?"

Sigh ...  Oh well.