This morning I took A. to Gymboree, where I had cheaply purchased one month of classes on Groupon. As I expected, A. did not really get into the instructor-led activities, preferring to sit on my lap and watch the other children as they gathered for a story, danced to lame kid music, ran drills on the kiddie equipment, and hugged Gymbo, the scary life-sized clown-doll that the instructors perpetually trot out as a mascot (and conveniently sell in the lobby). The other mothers glanced at us with sympathetic understanding twinged with pride that their children were joiners.
One particular woman was very nice, chatting me up about A. and expressing amazement that he has only been home for about a month. Later, she caught sight of his underwear poking out from his pants as he bent over to pick up a ball.
“He’s toilet-trained?” she asked in amazement. Some nearby mothers looked at us, awaiting my response.
“Yes, lucky for me! I said. “They toilet-train much earlier in developing countries. They don’t have diapers, so most kids are trained soon after they start walking.”
“Amazing!” one of the mothers breathed.
“We could probably learn something from that,” said another.
Yes, that’s right, ladies. My 2-year old may not have the developmental fortitude to hug a stuffed animal or run under a parachute, but at least he doesn’t shit himself. Score one for the kid from Ethiopia.
