Some monkeys will gladly dwell in their poop. Some longer than others. And some will throw it at you.
As happens with autistic kids a lot, many don't get the concept of going to the potty. It's no surprise the Younger Monkey has shown little interest with not staining his underoos. But rather, waiting until he's done the deed and then vicariously informing us of a job well done squishing from his pants. With the help of his school, he's been in underwear for a while, with the hope that he'll just find it gross, or that something will just click. But to no avail.
As I recall, potty training the Elder Monkey was easy. One weekend we just put him in underwear. The first time he felt it all dribble down his legs, it freaked him out. A lot. It's been relatively smooth sailing since, although he seems to have picked up from some bad habit of not going 'til the last second when enthralled in something that is far more pressing. Like getting past the next level of Jimmy Neutron: Attack of the Twonkies.
I tell him to go. "I don't have to go." I'll watch him gently rock back and forth like a ship at sea. "I don't have to go." I smell a storm brewing. "I don't have to go." At this point, batten down the hatches and make sure there's no one in the way. "I have to go NOW!" The waves are so tumultuous at this point that pants are on the way down before he even gets there. "Um, Can I have some new underwear..."
I sit back and sigh. I could go on and on with I told you so, but I feel like this must be payback of some sort. I'm not sayin' I have personal experience with this problem. I'm also glad my mom doesn't have a blog or internet access.
Ok fine. I am in fact sitting in a poo right now from the excitement of news I just learned that I couldn't hold back.
Let it be written that this morning the Younger Monkey was watching TV, he uttered his small but mighty "Uh-Oh!", that usually foretells a disaster from the from very bowels of, well, the bowels. As fearful and quizzical looks are exchanged and the preparation of new armor is eminate, he unexpectedly dashes to the other end of the house. To use the potty on his own. Afterwards he proclaims "Whew, that was close." Kachow!
True, he still won't poop when cojoled to. But it brings hope for the future that we won't have to invest in some stock with Serenity for Men.
Perhaps the measure of true victory is breaking through your tribulation and coming out on the otherside wearing clean undies.