Waits for no one

While his mother has been playing a puke-faced Euridice, our Captain has been growing up with haste and enthusiasm.  And a lot of whining.  His inability to communicate quite properly has been lending him to a maddening propensity for whining.  Holy Moly it's enough to push me over the edge some days.  But if I can keep my temper and remind him to use a "nice voice" he's usually able to correct his own habit.  Usually. *shudder*   We shall continue with speech therapy and learning parental patience.



He's also spontaneously potty-trained himself.   I cannot complain about this development, can I?  I had a hard time getting on board with it when he was asking for underwear in the midst of my puke-fests a month ago,  but I pulled my brain out from under the fog of malaise and remembered that when they're ready, they're ready, and the readiness can be fleeting.  So I cooperated, and he's done nearly all the rest of the work himself.  I  do have to point out to him that he's doing the potty dance sometimes, but so long as I'm  aware enough to do that, accidents are exceedingly rare.  I'll take that for what it is.  A tender mercy.  Thank You Dear God.

Another tender mercy?  Reading this yesterday.  Sometimes the vomit impairs my ability to see things clearly, and a firm but non-nagging reminder can prove nothing short of miraculous.