Potty training. For real. Really doing it, not turning back. I think he's ready. After only three days, he's starting to recognize when his pants are wet, but that didn't stop him from crapping all over my living room carpet this morning. We're at the take-him-to-the-potty-every-20-minutes stage. The kitchen timer might instill a Pavlovian response.
A strange window onto his mind: whenever he sits on the potty, he starts anxiously requesting cheddar cheese. "Rectangle cheese!" he begs. Cheese, while a favorite food of his, has never been a potty training reward, and I can think of no valid connection between peeing and eating cheese. Chrissy has advised me to ignore this and not think too much about it.