The Butterfly Effect

Since my life currently revolves around the whims of someone whose idea of a good time is running around a foot stool for five minutes just to run head first into a recliner it is easy for me to understand why some of my posts have to do with Jack, the easily amused 22-month old.

This one is no exception, but there is a little bit more to it than waxing fondly about Jack. So here it goes:

I won't lie and tell you that the notion of potty-training has just come into my world. It was one of the first things I thought of when I found out I was pregnant. That is one of the reasons why I decided to have a boy - because I thought I could pawn the training onto my husband.

Well, unfortunately I am the one who is home with the itty-bitty and any attempts at training fall to me.

Jack shows interest in the idea of the potty, but for me it is a terrifying aspect. Now, I haven't immersed myself in baby-raising books, and I haven't sought outside help on the subject because my go-to source who is my mom, who had five children, has proven downright useless when it comes to remembering anything she did when raising any of her kids.

Basically what I have is snippets of things I've heard or imagined about how potty training has to be executed just right, at the right time, in the right altitude, and not on a full moon or the consequences are dire.

Plus, past job experiences have taught me that I am a horrible trainer. My training sessions have gone: instruct the trainee on how task should be done; stand back and watch; wait a minute or until the thought crosses my mind that I can do this faster on my own and they are getting in my way; and gently push them out of the way and do it myself.

I am not too sure how well that will work for the whole potty training thing.

Add the fact that I am pretty much convinced that everything I do while potty training will result in some type of butterfly effect and the amount of terror weighing down on me becomes more evident. If I do 'this' there will be an earthquake in Antarctica and all the penguins will capsize. If I do 'that' he will grow up to be a six-legged bunny monster who feeds on the souls of lost children.

Crappy Artist's Rendering of future improperly potty trained Jack. And he was such a cute kid. Harumph.

I can't handle the pressure. I'm considering putting it off until he's, I don't know, 14. I mean I don't really want to be responsible for turning their child into a monster and all indications point to them turning into one on their own accord around that age... right?