Oh yes we call him the streak!

Sometime back around Christmas, I noticed that Eli started asking to go potty when we were out at restaurants.  I would take him and he would go, even though he isn't potty trained.  I got very excited thinking that he was finally going to put all the pieces together and start going potty.  But then, because I'm pretty perceptive, I realized that he was only asking to go potty when things around him were chaotic.  He liked going to the bathroom because it was calm with nothing but the white noise of toilets flushing and hand dryers blowing.

Thank you Sensory Processing Disorder.  You are such a gem.  (Sense the sarcasm!)

So, although I definitely was not trying to discourage a good pottying attempt, I also had to be wise about knowing when he really wanted/needed to go and when he just needed to feel calm.  It's tricky business.

Fast forward to Sunday morning.  We drop Eli off to a class of eerily calm three year olds.  I even commented to the first hour teacher about how quiet and calm everyone was.  I gave the first hour teacher a couple of updates on Eli, including that he may need his blanket during the morning to help him calm down.  As I was leaving, I saw the second hour teacher coming in, but didn't think to tell her anything.

After church, I went to get Eli and his teacher kind of sighed a little and said he'd had a bit of a rough morning.  I, of course, asked what had happened and she informed me that Eli had asked to go to the potty.  They took him to the bathroom and stood outside the door, while he attempted to take care of business.  When the teacher looked in on him, she realized that Eli had taken all of his clothes off! He then ran back into the classroom and proceeded to play a fun game of "Catch the Streaker"!

Apparently it was only a fun game to him.  :-/

I, on the other hand, thought it was HILARIOUS! Because there isn't much that my boy finds more fun than a good game of chase. His teacher was chuckling about his antics, but I still don't think she was all that amused.

After talking to my friend who is our preschool minister, she told me that there was another little girl in the class who had been having a really rough morning with lots of fits.  So, his streaking makes a lot more sense now, right?  It had never occurred to me to tell his church teachers about his escape needs.

So in conclusion:

Dear Eli,

I love you more than you can imagine.  But, if you read this as a teenager and decide it would be funny to reenact your childhood antics, I will send you to live with your grandparents.  And if I ever see you streaking at a sporting event someday, I will claim that I do not know you and that maybe you were raised by monkeys just like Tarzan.

Love,
Mom