The Reason the Hibiscus Died

My family has finally returned home. I have missed the rumblings of a full house, and for the next few days, what ever happens, I'll be smiling.

I picked them up at our least favorite airport in the world yesterday around 10:00 in the morning. Anyone that has travelled alone with children can commiserate with Vic. She takcled the trip here from Panama City by herself. This trip consists of a brief jaunt to Atlanta, a four hour wait that starts at the kids bed time, followed by a nine+ hour trip that lands at an airport straight from 1941 Cairo. I hate making this trip by myself; I can't imagine trying with the kids.

About an hour after they landed, Vic came trooping around a corner with 540 pounds of baggage (this is not an exaggeration, we weigh them before boarding), two kids, and a porter to push the heavy stuff. She hadn't slept in 36 hours (hence there is only a picture of a fat cat in a pot this post). The kids had done only marginally better and even the porter looked to be struggling...of course the four hundred pounds in front of him may have contributed to his appearance. At least the trip home from the airport was uneventful, and, following a well deserved nap by the three of them, I finally had something that resembled my family back. I threw the kids in the pool and Vic went back upstairs to start nap number two. I'm hoping the kids are over jet lag by tomorrow. I have awful memories of it from my own childhood, and there is just little to be done until their internal clocks readjust.

Well, as I mentioned in my last post, we are in full potty training mode at the Plank household. The following two conversations occurred about four hours ago and less than three minutes apart. We had been swimming all afternoon, and, in lieu of Sawyer running through the house every ten minutes to the toilet, we had brought his new, singing potty outside (everyone should have a potty that sings to them). This is relevant towards the end of the second conversation. Sawyer is done swimming and is running around the yard naked as all men enjoy doing.

Sawyer (naked squatting near a tree): grunt

Dad: Sawyer, do you need to go poo-poo?

Sawyer (quickly standing up): No

Dad: Are you sure?

Sawyer: No need go poo-poo Dad (with a rather high level of naivete): OK. Just let me know if you need to go poo-poo.

At this point, I turned around and continued to clean up around the pool. Two minutes later, I lift my head to check on Sawyer.

Dad: What are you looking at Sawyer?

Sawyer (now standing in the middle of the driveway, looking at something on the ground with Walker): Yuck!

Dad: What's yuck?

Sawyer: Poo-poo, yuck.

Dad: Did you poop in the driveway?! Four feet from your potty?!

Sawyer: Yuck!

Dad: Sawyer, don't pick that up!! Sawyer, STOP!! DON'T TOUCH THAT!!! Dangit Sawyer.

Sawyer (Now wiping his hands on his naked thigh): Yuck! The previous conversation was editted to remove language unsuitable for small ears.

As you can tell, we are not that far along with the potty training.

I was planning to end with that and publish, but before I could Sawyer decided to add a little more to the post. He has been crying for ten minutes, so I went to check on him. Upon opening the door, he immediately stops crying. He is naked from the waist down, his diaper is in one hand and with the other he points to the bathroom and tells me he needs to tee-tee. I think about this for a second, and then ask him if he has all ready tee-teed. He smiles and proudly says yes. I ask him where he tee-teed. He points to the ground under my bare feet. As quickly as I realize I am standing in a puddle, I understand why.