Yesterday, I sent Brigham out to play with Paul. I walked away, and when I turned around, there was Brigham, standing in front of the sliding glass door with his pants around his ankles. "That's odd." I thought. "It is not even 40 degrees out there. I wonder what he is doing." It was then that I noticed the spray on the glass. Yes, Brigham decided to go on the backdoor. Where do they pick these things up? We had a discussion about appropriate places to go outside. Fence - fine. Bushes - fine. Sliding glass door - not fine. I swear, you would think they were raised in a barn. And, while I don't really like the idea of them going on the fence, I would far rather that than in their pants. At least he is recognizing the need and addressing it semi-appropriately.
Today I was waiting while Brigham was sitting on the potty seat and decided to call my dad. Brigham likes to take his time, so I figured I had a few minutes. When he saw me dial, he wanted to talk. Fortunately, Dad is a good grandpa and was more than happy to talk to Brigham. The conversation went like this:
- Grandpa - "How are you, Brigham?"
- Brigham - "I'm Brigham."
- G - "I know you're Brigham, how do you feel? Are you being a good boy?"
- B - "No, I not a good boy, I Brigham."
Out of the mouth of babes.