After just over a month of regression, we're back on track. Alastair and I have been working hard, as have his grandparents and sitters, on getting back to July.
Cajoling, bribery, offerings at the deity of poop, you name it, we've tried it. Friday morning we had a moment that stuck. I told him that he needed to work on telling us when he needed to poop--that if he managed to get through that one day without pooping in his pants, we would go to a birthday party at a bouncy-castle place. 3 minutes later, he pooped in his pants. Not the recent smears, but real honest poop. I cleaned him up, made him poop on the potty, and left for work. But I didn't wave goodbye to him. Oversight or anger--didn't matter.
Last night when I got home, he'd been really good about pooping a little bit throughout the day, and he pooped really well twice for me before bed, each time telling me that he wants me to always wave when I'm leaving.
Today we had no fewer than 3 poop adventures, and we kept the same diaper clean and dry all day long.
And he's been quite proud of himself all day for it. He's been showering me with affection, and while the day wasn't perfect (he was trying to push a little girl this morning with his belly--believing that it wasn't pushing since he wasn't using his hands), our potty times have been flawlessly executed, without acrimony.
There's been no evidence of desire to avoid the potty, no time-wasting once there, and he's just been in a great mood about it.
And this is actually where we were a month ago, before we both got sick and went on vacation. While I loved our vacation, I think the timing of it and our shared illness threw him off. He started hoarding and holding it again, and before long we were back to full-on constipation, in spite of the Miralax.
There's been little further discussion of the Special School, though he did ask me the other day where it is. I told him West Virginia. He said he thought it was in Alaska.