Today is starting out ok. I’m starting in on dinner prep already and it’s not even 9am. If you look closely the house is filthy, but everything is at least put away so I’ll just walk around the house squinting. And the youngest, when asked what he wanted to wear today, shouted “YA YA KIDS!”

The plan is to get the morning run in and take the little guy to the zoo by 10am, or not long after. He says he wants to see “all of dee animals” so we’ll have our work cut out for us. As long as he doesn’t want to linger too long at the flamingos. I mean, there are stinky animals and then there are truly “fowl” animals. Yes, I’m calling you out, flamingos. You stink. As long as I’m talking about it, a close second in stinkdom is the elephants. Have you Atlantans been inside the elephant house? WHOA! There’s no denying that funk. Even when my then-4-year-old shouted out in front of a polite group of school children, “Ewwwww! The elephants stink!” I could not correct or deny the statement. Yes, observant little one - elephant dung by any other name, still stinks.

Which brings me to another topic, our youngest is turning 3 next week and is still wearing diapers. Well, pull-ups really, but it ain’t underwear, that’s for sure. And we ran out of them today, so now I have to commit to him wearing another 44 (or however many come in a pack). He did have one day of pure potty genius a couple weeks ago. He decided on a Friday morning, that he would wear underwear. Really? Well, ok. So I packed him off to daycare along with a bag of clothes, including shoes and socks, because I was that pessimistic about the awful, drippy, smelly mess he would make. So, when I picked him up around 5:30 that evening and he was wearing the same clothes, I peeked inside his pants in disbelief. Totally clean. No accidents all day. A potty progeny. This was his first day of wearing underwear, people! Then we took off for Target to pick out big-boy underwear. We picked some Diego, some superheroes, and a few camouflage for days when he wants to blend in. This whole time in Target, I’m checking to see if he needs to use the bathroom, like every 5 minutes. No, no, no. But then, when we get home, there it is — the wet pants and uh-oh face. No big deal. We start over tomorrow. But then on Saturday morning, after 3 accidents before 10am, I realize that he just doesn’t want to go sit on the potty for us. He’ll do it for the teachers, but m & d, not-so-much. I’m going to just cross my fingers that he will decide on his third birthday that he wears only underwear now, like his big brother did. Peer pressure has its merits, you know.

Anyways, who knows — maybe this morning as we walk around the smelly animals a lightbulb will go on and he will be inspired to flaunt his homo sapien-ness and use the potty. I’d still better go buy those pull-ups on our way there, right?