"Would you like fries with that?"

So we bit the bullet and vowed to really work on Carter's potty training. We decided to go "balls to the wall" in our method, or in simpler (and perhaps more appropriate terms) no pull-ups or diapers. It's officially undies time.

Now, one thing you should know about our eldest, is that he is quite positively his parents' son in that he is easily swayed by the prospect of food. "Treats" to be specific. Therefore, when we explained that he would get an M&M when he peed on the potty (2 M&Ms for poo) he pretty much trained himself.

Yesterday he spent the whole day in big boy undies (except for nap time). He even pooped on the potty before school. When we got home last night, we realized that we hadn't really planned dinner and asked Carter if he would like to go get a Happy Meal as a special treat for staying dry all day. Of course he said yes and thus we prepared for a family outing to up and coming Canaan, CT (sarcasm) otherwise known as the real life Farmville. Carter was psyched to get apples in his happy meal. At the risk of sounding like a commercial mommy, I was equally as happy that he wanted apples and dislikes french fries-options like this lessened the sting of guilt for feeding fried, processed food to my two-year old!

Mind you, our little jaunt to Mickey D's was only the fourth place we've ventured with the twins. What a twisted little minds we have thinking it's OK to subject them to the aroma of a bubbling fry-a-lator and the impending doom of ketchup smeared napkins abandoned at most every booth. Needless to say, they did not leave their car seats.

As we walked in, a good-natured grandpa looked at us and immediately stated, "Wow, I thought I had my hands full", nodding to the two little boys who hung from the bench, chocolate milk dripping off the table. We offered a knowing laugh in return and staked out our spot in the corner.

A brief synopsis: Ben left to order the food while I held down the fort with the boys. Next thing I know, Carter is off and running. I look at him, I look at the babies. I look back at him and decide that yes, I should probably chase him and leave the babies. Carter goes to Ben. I go back to the twins. Carter wanders back. Repeat above synopsis.

In what seemed like light years later, Daddy finally returned with our tray of greasy goodness. After bite #1 of his cheeseburger, Carter decided he needed to use the potty. Although Ben insisted he didn't have to go, being the ever-nagging wifey, I lectured that we need to take him anyway to encourage his training. Seconds later they returned, because like his Mommy, Carter seems to have a great distaste for public restrooms. "Too yucky", he announced.

In no time, tears ensued when a chunk of Carter's cheeseburger hit the ground. Then, the babies began turning into little strawberries, overheating in their snowsuits, hats and blankies. Oh, and did I mention that this classy establishment does not carry apple slices? Or that my son was terrified of his wind-up walking Chewbacca toy? You'd think the kid saw a ghost. Finally, one more trip to the bathroom, this time the ladies room, and the discovery of the hand dryer. Again, you'd think the kid saw a ghost. Who knew my child was so jumpy?

Amidst the chaos, my hubby and I caught each other's eye for a brief moment in time and he said, "Did you ever think that when we got together 5 1/2 years ago that we would end up with 3 little boys, eating dinner at McDonalds no less?"

"Definitely not", I replied as I surveyed the scene of crinkled up papers and empty cups. Looking back, I wouldn't have it any other way.