I've always fancied myself a pretty darn good grandma, one who goes out of her way to spread love and joy and special acts of kindness and self-sacrifice all for the sake of her grandsons.

A conversation I had with Megan over the weekend made it clear my delusions of grandmotherly grandeur and goodness may be exactly that—delusions. I'm not all that good. And not all that self-sacrificing. At least not all the time.

I'm scheduled to soon babysit Bubby and Baby Mac for the longest duration I have yet. It's a stint of nearly 10 days on my own—no Megan, no Preston, just me and the boys at their place. Such a stint feeds into my "I'm a good grandma" belief.

Well, Megan and I were discussing this and that over the weekend, and she just so happened to mention that Bubby has started pooping his pants. On a fairly regular basis. This is a kid who's been potty trained for, gosh, well over a year.

Sure, potty-training regression is to be expected when there's been a big change in a little one's life. But Bubby's big change happened nearly a year ago when Baby Mac came along. And several months ago when they moved into a new house. No poopy pants at the time of either of those events.

Now, though, Megan reports that at least once a day Bubby will traipse off to a corner where he thinks he's hidden and do the dirty deed in his big boy undies...then wait quite some time before telling Mommy about it.

Megan's perplexed. And I'm concerned only for myself.

"Yuck! You sure as heck better have that all figured out before I get there," was my instant, unfiltered response. "That's definitely not something I want to deal with."

Yep, I'm a bad grandma. A bad grandma who has no problem whatsoever changing poopy diapers of newborns, infants, even young toddlers who've not yet been potty trained. But big butts of big boys who have fairly big poops is, like I said, definitely not something I want to deal with.

Megan's researched solutions and is working fervently to bring success.

I'm crossing my fingers that success comes sooner rather than later. Only 16 days til I head to the desert. And only 17 days til I get really unhappy if I have to clean up poopy pants on a boy who's nearly four years old.

Today's question:

When did you last change a poopy kid—diapered or otherwise?

I understand that when potty training a little one, stress and a busy schedule can cause regression to varying degrees. Bubby, who's in the potty training phase of wearing big boy undies all day and Pull-Ups at night, had a pretty busy schedule last week.

There was the Christmas parade.

Meeting Santa.

Checking out holiday lights.

And a performance of Yo Gabba Gabba Live.

With so many things happening in just a few days' time, no one could fault the tired little two-and-a-half-year-old if he backslid a bit in his potty training and had a few accidents.

Thing is, Bubby didn't. Quite the contrary, in fact.

Despite the crazy holiday schedule, this week Bubby had his very first dry night wearing big boy undies to bed!

Hooray for Bubby! Give that boy a hand!

Megan called Tuesday to tell me of the fantastic feat.

Can I talk to him? I asked.

"Sure!" and handed the phone to Bubby. "Hi, Gramma!" he said.

Hey, Bubby! Did you have a dry night last night?

"Yeah ... my underwear was DRY!"

What a big boy you are! I'm so proud of you!

"Yeah, I'm eating fries."

Ummm ... Okay ... I love you, Bubby! Great job!

"Love you. Buh bye!"