Don't Give Him the Finger

Here's a picture of my dad's finger. Believe it or not, it actually almost looks worse in person. I have to say that, of his most recent accidents, I find this one to be the most visually disturbing. It's gross, so if a nasty bloody mess isn't something you're into, close your eyes and scroll down now.

Seriously, this whole blog post will be gross. As I'm sure you've realized if you've read any of this blog, we're in the process of potty training David. It's been about 2 months now that we've really started to be consistent with it. He only wears a diaper when he's sleeping now, and he's doing so great. However, it's only within the last week that he's started to occasionally tell us when he has to go to the bathroom. Previously, I would just take him when I thought of it. I feel like we're making real progress now, because he's gone three times by himself today. One time I went in to check on him, and he had pooped. He was standing over the toilet peering in and said, "LOOK MAMA! I did a poop!" I told him how proud I was, to which he replied very seriously, "Did you see that my poop looks like Mickey Mouse's head? It's even smiling at me!" Are. You. Kidding. Me? Did you notice my fecal matter looks just like a freaking dancing, singing rodent with big shoes? No, I didn't catch that on first glance. Thanks for pointing it out. He was so enamored with that poop that the whole family had to file into the bathroom to inspect it. I have a feeling he was the only one who saw M-I-C-K-E-Y looking back. . .