Rocket Man

Cody has been totally toilet-trained for nearly a year, and has been staying dry during naps and at night for several months. Excellent for the budget. But we still put him in a pull-up overnight, just in case he were to, say, sleep past 5:00 a.m. and not wake up to go to the bathroom. Ha! (Everyone says not to wish these years away; I don't, but I fully admit to longing for the day that he either sleeps past daybreak, or gets himself up quietly to go play. Since thoughts going through Cody's head = thoughts coming out of his mouth, though, we're out of luck for now. For example, a few days ago, JVL and I sat bolt-upright in bed at 4:50 a.m., when his monitor went from silent to an enthusiastic chorus of "Five fat turkeys are weeeeee....") It was much less cute than it sounds.

Anyway. Last night, he went to the bathroom and then grabbed a pull-up from the closet. He doesn't like any help at all getting dressed and undressed, but talks himself through the process ("this arm goes in that guy"..."my left leg goes in the left hole"..."the tag goes in the back" etc.) As I'm putting away his laundry and I hear him muse, "Legs go through the holes, and penis goes in the rocket."

I paused.

"What did you say, sweetie?" I asked casually.

"My penis goes in the rocket," he replied confidently.

"The rocket?"

"Yes! These are outer space pull-ups." (They are, in fact, Toy Story pull-ups, which were given to us from a friend. He's never seen Toy Story. Has no idea who Buzz Lightyear is. Neither do I, in fact, and as such had never really paid attention to the illustrations.)

"See this big rocket right here in the middle? That's how I know which is the front. It goes over my penis."

"Oh! I see. Well. That's very clever of you."

Rocket. Penis. Awkward. Just...awkward.