I KNEW it.  I KNEW that the moment I blogged on his potty-training success he’d have another accident.  And, as usual, I was right.

3 am.  My bedroom.  Peyton’s door squeaks open, pitter-patter down the hall, breathing on James’ side of the bed near the door.  I feign sleep, waiting for the Breather to make the next move.  He doesn’t, so I roll over and look at him.  “Mommy, I sorry…I wet!” 

Poor little guy – he felt so bad!  “I forgot to wake up and go potty…I sorry, Momma!”  He was so sad, not to mention wet and cold.  Poor guy…I should have held off on blogging about his success until the weather was warm enough to enjoy a cold bed…ew!