*defeated sigh*

I don't know what to do. Babe has had three poopy accidents in the last three days. Four, actually. Two last night, one the Saturday and one today.

I actually have no words at this point.

I've put him in the pull-ups we have left (which he agreed to) and shaken my head and told him I just don't know what to do with him.

He's not happy, I'm not happy and Geoff will lecture until the cows come home when he finds out (which makes me want to just wash the evidence).

I hate this.

His excuse, by the way, is "I didn't know where the bathroom was." Despite being in OUR house for three of the four accidents. And he has no trouble finding the bathroom when he has to pee...

I hate this so much. What I hate the most is that I just don't know what to do and I don't know what to believe (he's learned how to lie) and... I just don't know how to convince him that this is... bad.

Will it take me crying? 'Cause I don't want to pull that card out on him. Not at this age.

Shit. What do I do?