Tomorrow Robby moves into the "big boy class" at his preschool. This monumental occasion is a result of Robby going poop in the potty. It represents a lot of diapers, wipes, destroyed clothing, hours of unproductive bathroom reading and $100 extra dollars a month in tuition that are now all a thing of the past.
I know he will have more accidents, of course he will. Hell, sometimes I still do if I am surprised or drunk enough. But this will be the only "official" recognition of Robby being toilet accomplished (that sounds more dignified than "potty-trained") and I couldn't let the moment pass unrecognized. I know that the challenges he will face from now on will only continue to grow and to challenge me as a mother and a sane human being. They will make pooping in the potty seem not so monumental.
An old classmate from last year started attending his school again and Robby will be in the same class with him. This little boy is the nightmare of every other kid's parent in his class. He teaches the other kids things that we think our little three year old angels are not ready for. Things like hitting. Words like snot, shit and stupid. Oh, the joy. Why couldn't this kid have shown up in the 3rd grade? Every boy was like this when I was in the third grade.
Tonight, it's off to find a Diego lunch box, as they don't have a refrigerator in the "big boy class". I can use some the $100 in tuition savings and get him a really nice one! Woo-Hoo!