(Mostly) Potty Trained

Disclaimer: this post contains discussion of my preschooler's bodily functions, primarily, his bathroom habits. Read at your own discretion. 

A while back, I mentioned that I was going to start potty training Davis. This was a task I should have taken on last summer, when he was a young 2. I was a little lazy, though, and despite the fact that diapers are gross, there is something easy about them.

In my mind, though, I knew I needed Davis in underwear by his 3rd birthday, which happens now to be only 6 days away. So, about 2 weeks ago, after he recovered from some nasty fever virus, I decided to just go for it. No Pull-Ups, just straight into underwear. He has done great. We've had very few accidents, unless you count the fact that the child refuses to poop in the potty. That's right. He would rather crap soil his Lightning McQueen underwear than sit on the potty to go. Peeing? Not a problem at all. He tells us when he needs to go, and even stands up sometimes. (By the way, my heart goes out to all of you with more than one boy. The mess in the bathroom is  just gross.)

I've tried several routes with the pooping issue. At first, I just threw away the dirty underwear, which Davis didn't like. Underwear with Disney characters is pretty cool, after all, and seeing it go out with the trash is no fun. He was distraught by that,  but not enough to entice him to try out the potty. I think he's scared, but I can't totally nail down the problem.

Next, I went to Target and got a toy that I know he wants. It's some airplane from Imaginext. This one, I think:

It's sitting in plain view on top of my refrigerator. I remind Davis daily that he can have it when he poops on the potty. We came really  close today, but at the last minute, he jumped off, having clearly changed his mind. The fact that he was walking around holding his little tush made it clear to me that he really needed to go. I stalked him until nap time to prevent an accident, though. Heh heh.

So, no luck with the airplane. I'm kind of at my wits' end because seriously? There is nothing worse than cleaning up after him. It's gross. If you're actually still reading this, any advice you have to get him TOTALLY trained would be so appreciated. Obviously, I don't want to make a huge deal over this and railroad the progress we have made, but if I have to clean up another pair of underwear, I may scream. Or just throw up. Because really? Yuck.