So lately, you’ve developed the lovely habit of stripping all your clothes off pretty much every time you get the chance. Best Buy. Target. Kroger. You don’t discriminate when it comes to sharing your new fascination with nudity. If I turn my back for a second, your pants end up around your ankles while at least one arm finds its way out the neck of your shirt. Surprisingly, you can still really get around with jeans stuck to one foot, trailing behind you, and I’m becoming quite talented at chasing your half-naked, laughing little body through the aisles of stores where people generally wear clothes. Mama thinks this is So. Fun.
We’ve also had to start safety-pinning your pajamas as several mornings have found you standing up in your crib, stark naked, holding out your sodden diaper like a gift. You’re so….thoughtful.
In any case, I recently decided that perhaps you were trying to tell me something with all this stripping. You’re very interested in the potty, and you love ripping off toilet paper, flushing, slamming the lid, etc. We bought you a toddler potty a few months ago, and you enjoy sitting on it….and using it as a step-stool to reach the bathroom counter where you proceed to destroy all my makeup. But I digress.
Therefore, a couple of weeks ago, I decided we’d attempt potty-training. Now, I’d like to say that I didn’t plan on being that mom who posted potty pics of her kid.
Oops. Sorry. Yeah, I realize you may not be such a fan when you’re 16, but here are my thoughts on that.
Anyway, sweet girl, based on your initial enthusiasm, I thought things were going well. We had a few pee-pees in (or at least near) the potty, and when you figured out you got candy for cooperation, you sat on that thing every five minutes.
However.….I turned my back for a few minutes to get some coffee (curse my caffeine addiction!), and I was interrupted by your two little hands wiping themselves on my pants. Your two little POO-COVERED hands.
In horror, I looked down to find that you had completely filled your new panties, and poo was falling down your legs and pooled at your ankles. In a few moments, you had managed to smear poo over a significantly large area of the kitchen floor, all over yourself, and all over me. And while I stared at you, mentally willing this atrocity to disappear, you giggled, seemingly unbothered by it all.
After two complete wardrobe changes, a bath, and scrubbing the floor, I decided that while you may be ready for potty- training, Mommy is definitely NOT. We’ll try again in a few months. Maybe. I mean, I promise I won’t send you to kindergarten in diapers, mmmkay?
All my love,