It's 10:30. I just took Michael to pee. I do this every night before I go to bed and once again at the crack of dawn. The "wee" hours. Pun intended. If I take him twice a night he still might pee in his pull-up but it won't usually soak through to the bed. He doesn't feel good about waking up wet but he's a deep sleeper. I've been frustrated with him for it and at times it's shown. I regret these times. I regret a lot of reactions I've had as a parent- times when I haven't come from a place of gratitude and love. I think I'm a better parent in my head sometimes, when he's not around. My goal is to minimize the regrets and remember what really matters. A lofty goal.
He doesn't wake up when I take him to pee. He did at first but lately he lets me do all the work. I think Ron got him in the habit- Ron carries him through the whole process. I try to get him to walk- I think it's a good habit and he goes right back to sleep anyway. Now when I walk with him he's limp. Actually, one part usually isn't limp so it takes a minute or so to do the deed. If the little soldier's standing at attention it can get messy. I listen carefully for the sound of the splash so I know what's been hit. Tonight he hit the usual targets- the back of the toilet seat and the floor to his right. He also veered farther west and nailed a copy of what is enlightenment? the magazine for evolutionaries. The cover article is "Constructing The New Man." It's late for me, and perhaps that's why I found it mildly amusing. I look for humor where I can these days. It's all I can do.