Lucas has an iron bladder to match his iron will. He refuses to go more than twice a day, though he takes me to every public restroom possible in the meantime. He tells me he has to go potty, we get there, he sits down, pops right back up and yells, "Nope!" and smiles. He stomps around the house, wiggling his legs, walking with a limp, clenching all those muscles, refusing to let anything go.
On the flip side... he doesn't have many accidents. He makes it there 85% of the time. (Yes, I really did the math). I should be thankful. But I've figured something out. I am NOT a patient person. I can't sit still that long. I can't stay focused. The only thing working for us right now is that he loves for me to draw on his legs while he sits. Not that he goes. Oh no. He only goes every 12 hours and that is after about 265 failed attempts. All of which last 2 seconds.
He also refuses to wear pullups or diapers. Refuses. So when we're in the car, or out in public, I must honor all 3,401 of his bathroom trip requests. Because you never know.
I really am proud of him. And I can even see the humor in this (a tiny little bit of it) now. Well maybe. Yesterday at Ice Skating, on our 3rd trip to the bathroom in 20 minutes, I was not seeing the humor. Today... a little.
I have stopped freaking out every time he says he has to go. I was freaking out. Because he yells, "I POOPING!" , drops everything, and runs. But now I realize that he'll make it there - and then probalby jump right back up and limp away.