Yesterday I took Levi into the bathroom at church with me as Herb was cleaning up from worship team rehearsal.
In the middle stall, I had locked the door and was doing my, ahem, business. Fascinated with the other two stall doors and the steps stool that led up to the sink in the empty bathroom, Levi was was keeping himself occupied.
I noticed he kept walking into the stall to my right. He loves walking back wards these days, so I saw his little sandaled feet back up to the toilet, I heard a tiny voice say "psssss," (at least he knows what sounds SHOULD be happening on the toilet), and then he would giggle and run away. He repeated this about three times.
Then I heard the sound that every momma dreads.
"Levi, get your hands out of the toilet!!"
And then whimpers.
Panicked, I peeked under the stall wall, and no longer see an little feet backed up to the toilet bowl.
"Herb!!!!!! Herb!!!" I yell at the top of my lungs. "Get in here now!!"
"Yeah right!" says Herb from the lobby where he waited for us.
"No really - Levi needs help. Please come."
Levi's cries continue. I am still stuck in my respective stall.
Herb storms in the bathroom, opens one and then two stalls till he finds our son. Butt water deep, arms and legs flailing in the air, Levi has fallen rear first into the toilet. Herb said he looks like a turtle stuck on his shell.
I hear Herb laughing uncontrollably, and soon meet them at the bathroom vanity where we strip Levi of his toilet water soaked clothing. From shoulder blades to knees, dripping wet.
So I guess potty training has taken a turn for the worse.