Anyone feeling especially entrepreneurial?

I know it's a bad idea to put out such a fabulous idea for just anyone to pick up, but trust me. This is not a job I want.

After potty training two children within as many years, I'm done. I'm done with the accidents, the "accidents" and the poop-in-the-underwear. I only have so many towels, so much febreeze (vinegar is fabulous, too, bytheway), and so little patience.

I swear, if I had the funds I'd totally consider paying someone to potty train my kid for me.

*insert better segueway here*

Right now, we're having a crisis of definitions. I've been reduced to bribery, and have told my youngest (who will be three in December) that if he pees on the potty, he gets one candy corn; if he poops on the potty, he gets two candy corns. Because I'm a good mom, I institute some good-old-fashioned peer pressure and tell the older two that they, too, will get said amount of candy corn.

Try to contain your own excitement. Candy corn IS awesome.

So Joe decides he has to go pee. Giddy with candy corn anticipation, we run into the bathroom. Abbie can't handle it and lets out a triumphant "Yesss!" as she follows us inside. Joe drops his pants and I hoist him onto the toilet.

He pees, we cheer. He proclaims, "I'm done!" and we all run to get some candy corn.

Since Jason is asleep, I give Abbie her share and hand Joe his one piece.

The dude throws a fit. He's been in this horrible little phase lately, this Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde kind of phase that makes me find out just how much self-control I really do have.

If I wasn't certain he was a boy, I'd swear he was menstrual.

I'm not sure what is going on with this kid, but I'm not going to give him any attention, and he lost his candy when he threw it outside (that's right). He wants more, I say no, he runs to Daddy who - bless his immense patience - comes out to translate for me.

"I think we're having issues with definitions."

Joe considers "poop" and "pee" interchangable and thought he'd earned the right to two candies.

I know. Stupid, right? Just give the boy his piece. I'd want two, too.

But I know this boy, and he's gotta learn. We explain to him the difference, using terms he's well aware of (one of his favorite words is "penis" - I'm sure I will visit that subject rather often). Eric then asks him if he has any "poop in his bum" and Joe says no.

Minutes later, he tells me he has to go potty.

Now, this is the problem with bribery. Every five seconds this kid will squeeze any last drop he's got within him for a piece of candy corn, and eventually I'll have to up the ante and endure more of the miscommunication horrors that are little boys with little girl screams.

But we do it because diapers suck and independence rocks. I've never really been one of those moms who freak out when their kids grow up. Is it weird? Of course it is. Honestly, I'm probably more nostalgic than most people I know, so I don't get it.

What I do know is that one of the real wonders of raising kids is seeing them grow up and do things on their own. That beaming smile makes me swell inside. That's a smile I want to see all the time, and it's a smile that won't go away as they age.

And, really, having your child use the bathroom all by him or herself at night without you is one of the neatest things ever.