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Its only 10 am and I have already been involved in a hard-core dance party. This one does not include disco balls and vodka tonics, but rather a 3 year old and a shimmy-shake we call the pee dance.  This child was very receptive to my potting training campaign, infact, he peed on the toilet from the get go. But he won’t go down with out a two-step or a jig….ask Leigh, he will hold his unit and dance until he has to give himself a “don’t pee” pep talk as he runs to the toilet  pulling his pants down. I must say though he has had few accidents and never wore a pull-up….now don’t get me wrong this child is no angel.  While peeing came easily, poohing on the toilet was a whole other battle, one my husband and I fought until just recently. Kai took to what can only be called abstract expressionism, but paint and a canvas was not his medium.  All he needs is a sh*@*y diaper and a cream-coloured berber carpet and his masterpiece is underway. The first pooh-smearing incident occured while I was out showing homes one day.  It was a rare day in which I was gone all day and Robb stayed home with the boys. I get a call about 4pm from Robb saying “Kai has spread sh*t all over his room, its down the vent, its all over the carpet, what am I suppose to do?” Imagine if I called him during a meeting to ask him how he thought I should get pooh out of carpet…I digress…anyhow, luckily a friend of ours owns a Rotostatic and came to my husbands rescue, we call him Captain Gord.  Embarrassingly Gord has had to clean up Kai’s mess more than once, unfortunately I was there for one incident so I can’t blame Robb’s lack of supervision as the excuse anymore! I actually work for Gord part-time now, that way he can just garnish my wages…true story.