So, yesterday I posted about Seabass and his lack of potty skills. About an hour after the post published, I took him over to my friend Amy’s house to play with her daughters while I took our stupid minivan to the mechanic (as if I need another reason to hate it). Anyway, when I returned to pick Seabass up, Amy relayed that when she offered him snack, water, or access to the potty, he said, gravely, “I don’t do that.”
Meaning he doesn’t use the potty. She said it was almost as if she had offered him a bong. I DON’T DO THAT.