Each morning when I let the boys out of their room, they look at me, pat their bums, and say "poo-poo". Then they scurry off into the living room to find a treasure to play with. The other morning Dylan went into the bathroom rather than the living room to "take care of business". Now, if I can get him to do it without his clothes on, and without his blankey and elephant, we'll be good. I think potty-training is on the horizon. I have a gut-ache thinking about it.