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May 17, 2003 - Saturday
Jeremy and I were outside this afternoon working around the future sandbox toward the back of our house. Harry was outside, too, but had gone back into the garage and, therefore, out of eyesight. From my position I could still see the end of the driveway and the street and since we've really passed the time when Harry needs constant supervision, I didn't worry too much about what he might be doing in there. But then all of a sudden Harry came walking out and around the garage toward me with his pants and underwear around his ankles and saying that he had an accident.

I was a little surprised at Harry having an accident because, since he decided to switch to underwear, he has had almost none. Really, after the first day in underwear Harry only had one accident about a month ago during an activity-filled afternoon and early evening when he was apparently too busy to trust his body. Maybe that's what happened today, I thought. But that wasn't really the story.

As I got to Harry and tried to determine whether he needed new underwear or a new set of clothes, he started talking rather surreally about something to do with his accident and the wagon. Surely it was a three-year-old's fantasy talk, or what could it be? But, Harry is not all that random as a three-year-old and it wasn't long before he explained that he had peed in the wagon, and sure enough, as we got back in the garage, there was the pool of liquid in the corner of the wagon. There were also little pools outside the wagon, although not directly beside it as if he had gotten some in but not again. Instead, I'm betting that Harry started peeing, then stopped and peed some more. Which came first, the wagon or the garage floor, will remain lost to this little history. I tried to find out from Harry, but it did not seem the right time or place for a full blown inquiry. He needed new clothes. Still, what is fairly clear to me is that Harry did not really have an accident. He did not pee in his pants, but rather dribbled some on his pants as they rested down at his ankles while he tried to find a solution short of going inside to the bathroom. In this bizarre way, he was actually doing something kind of imaginative. Now, I suppose, it's our job as parents to channel that creativity in other directions...well, starting with to the bathroom...

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