One Singular Sensation

Here at the House of Yum we are slowly beginning a very important venture: potty training. I will freely admit that I'm completely clueless in this regard and am open to any and all advice. This is what my friend Eric told me: "You have to find the motivation." For his daughter, it was a Terry's Chocolate Apple. Eric, being a teacher, received it as a gift from one of his students. (Am I getting this story right? Anyhow, she is successfully potty trained.)

So ... what's the Sugar's Baby's motivation? He's pretty easy to please, but this is what we settled on: for a full-fledged, "he-actually-did-it" result, he gets a Dum Dum. For a "he-tried-but-it-was-a-no-go," he gets an m&m.

Yes, that's right. AN m&m. One single, lovely, special m&m, which he is thrilled with. He takes his time picking out just the right one and stares at it lovingly for a few minutes before finally eating it.

Now enter Memaw, the Sugar Baby's grandmother who loves, loves, loves to spoil him. (For the record, I agree 100 percent that it's the grandparents right-- nay-- duty, to spoil the grandchildren.)
When I picked her and Grandpa D. up at the airport last week, we were in the car for about two seconds three minutes before Memaw whipped out a pack of m&ms and gave it to the Sugar Baby.

"The whole bag?" he asked.

Uh oh. I was busted.

"Yes the whole bag!" she said. "How many do you usually get?"

So I told her. One.

"One m&m?!" she said and laughed herself silly.

It was the joke of the weekend-- me and my ONE m&m. The weekend commenced and there were brownies and donuts and cookies and candies and toys and books and punch balls and more and more and more. But now Memaw has gone back home and left me with a Sugar Baby who's not going to make an effort for one stinkin' m&m or lollipop.

My utopia has been shattered. The Sugar Baby's naivete is gone. Now he's a man of the world. He's seen his options, and he wants it all.