We went to a barbecue yesterday and reunited with a former small group. Most of this group included the friends who prayed with me during my miscarriages, encouraged me through my pregnancy, and brought meals to us when our son was born.
I was standing outside with one gal, watching my son scramble around the bushes. She asked how the potty training was going, and I remarked how I generally thought he was doing well. I started to stammer over why I thought he was doing well, and she gracefully interrupted me saying "If you think he's doing well, he's doing well". Comparison doesn't help anyone, least of all the child.
Every child is different. Yup, boys take longer and don't care much about wallowing in their stuff. But at least they can pee standing up in the backyard. I'm now so used to cleaning feces off of surfaces and skin that another accident doesn't bug me all that much. That's why God invented germ-killing cleaning cloths.
In the meantime, I'm a little miffed at the fact that the boy doesn't think any of our chosen rewards are good enough. It took me three days to figure out that his idea of a reward was something specific and had nothing to do with toys. I've since run to Target to find more interesting candy.