Confession, my husband and I aren’t even trying anymore when it comes to potty training. That said, we have put in effort  – we’re constantly telling Ethan to use the toilet or reminding him to tell us when he needs to pee or poop. I’ve shown him the bribe he will receive when he doesn’t let ‘er rip in his pants. We’ve also made him watch us use the ceramic throne to which he happily does like it’s his favorite episode of Paw Patrol.  And one time we tried letting him go around the house commando, an experiment that I can tell you my furniture did not appreciate. But still, nothing.

So we’re taking a break.

We’ve just nailed it with diapers. It works for us. We don’t have to worry about accidents when we’re out. There’s never a need to stop at a roadside bathroom that I’m certain is the scene of several unsolved homicides. If an incident does happen – we’ve done it all, in almost every scenario imaginable and it’s pretty much second nature for us. And it clearly works for him. Pooping and peeing as he pleases. He’s living a care-free life. Sure, at times he’s carrying shitty baggage around with him, but aren’t we all in some sense or the other?

How can we deny happiness to this dude, pictured here chilling at our neighborhood pizza joint, pooping his pants at this very moment: