Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Feed Me, Seymour...

I have a big confession.

I feed my son.

I am weak and haven't just said to him "if you don't feed yourself you just won't eat."


Part of it is that I don't want to deal with the crying and whining and whatever tantrum he may throw. And part of it is that I don't want him to be hungry—which is ridiculous because he is in the 84th percentile for weight and is fine. I know I have to bite the bullet here. He is potentially the only three-year-old I know of who does not regularly feed himself. And he CAN! He just WON'T.


And there has been a poop backtrack with potty training. He flat out refuses to poop in the potty and prefers a diaper or pull-up.  Pee backtrack too, but he is more amenable to peeing than pooping. I guess it's more scary to poop in the potty. I'm not rushing things... even though he is 37 months...  not rushing them yet. But I guess eventually I'll have to press the issue.

I just want him to be more able to do for himself.  I am hoping I'll find a new job before unemployment runs out (I'd better) and he'll be in daycare full-time and they won't do for him like I do and he just SHOULD be able to now.

No more, Audrey 2. No more.

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