Potty training on the horizon?

This morning, seconds before my alarm went off, and about 15 minutes before I usually trudge down the hall to wake up Nick, I heard the sweetest little voice over the baby monitor saying "Uh oh!" on repeat.

I looked at the monitor to see Nick standing at the front corner of his crib, one foot pushing down the bumpers, a stance he has perfected over the past 18 or so months since he first figured out how to pull up in his crib.

Seeing as he wasn't actually crying, I chose to attempt to ignore his calls and tried to close my eyes for those last few seconds before I knew my alarm would blare.

But the whispers of "Uh oh!" soon turned into full on calls of "UH OH!!!!" and I thought maybe he had dropped his beloved bear over the side of the crib - which I knew would only end in a sobbing mess of tears, so I yanked myself out of bed - still pants less mind you - and wandered into Nick's room.

As soon as I pushed open his door, he grinned and said "UH OH!" and pointed right to his butt.  To which I said "did you poop??"  And he gleefully responded "UH HUH!"

This isn't the first time he's told me that he pooped.  We've had instances in recent weeks where he's pooped, and someone has caught a whiff of it, and when asked "Nick, did you poop?" he'll nod yes and point to his rear end.  But this was the first time he seemingly "announced" it and actually "asked" to be changed.

I, for one, think this is bittersweet.  While yes, I'd love for Nick to be potty trained and no longer have to worry about the threat of pink-eye when the water splashes up in my face as I drop yet another one of his monstrous turds into the toilet, I know nothing about peeing with a pe*nis.  Pooping in the toilet?  I've got that covered.  Wiping?  Check. Flushing?  Check.  But standing to pee, or worse, trying to point a little weenie downwards while sitting?  Not my forte.

And there's the added joy of the fact that Nick thinks the removable basin of his practice potty actually makes a better hat than somewhere to take a #2. I foresee a lot of "life's bleachable moments" in our near future.

Not to mention potty training is just one more step in the direction towards being an active member of society and no longer being my itty bitty baby boy.  Until, of course, he starts grabbing his ass in Target screaming about needing to "take a BM" (what, your mom didn't call it that too?) and I'm left standing there half mortified and half grateful that I'm still needed.

Motherhood is such a glamorous job.

Maybe I'll leave potty training up to Todd.  At least the peeing-while-standing part of it...