We are not officially starting to potty train Baby Boy, but his utter fascination in flushing things--ranging from toilet paper (good!) to socks (eh) to my iPod (bad!) forced me to take drastic actions to distract from the real thing. I think we are alone keeping the local plumber and septic tank company in the black.
So I bought a little training potty figuring he can "flush" things all day long, no harm no foul.
Last night I found him sitting there holding his monkey under one arm, bottle under the other and thumbing through the New York Times.
...and by the New York Times I mean Sports Illustrated.
...and by Sports Illustrated I mean the Victoria's Secret catalogue.
Like father like son.