On Monday, Will and I had a blast painting outside. We also made a huge mess, so I stripped off her clothes and hosed her off before heading inside. While playing in the nude, Will announced, "I have to poo, Mama. The poo is coming!"
I took her over to the potty and asked her if she wanted some privacy (she has always demanded that we not look at her when she's having doing her business) and she shut the bathroom door.
I waiting, a little nervously, wondering what would be waiting for me when the door reopened.
Suddenly, Will called out, "Mama! I see the poo!"
And there it was. We "flushed it down it goes" and celebrated with three (maybe four) smarties. We limited our calls to Daddy and a message for my parents: Hi Manno! Hi Papa! Poo. In the potty. Owls. Bye!"
Of course, lunch in underwear ended in a high chair full of pee. And in the days that followed, the only receptacle for toddler poop has been the trusty diaper.
But . . . I ordered some fancy training pants that arrived today. Will put them on immediately, and was crushed that she had to take them off for her nap so I could wash them. She was so excited that they be wash that she demanded I do so right away - no snuggles as she fell asleep, just wash those underwear so she could wear them when she got up!
For a child who does not go to sleep alone, this is a big deal, even though I can hear her singing at the top of her lungs.
Who knows? Maybe she will actually fall asleep.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Um, no. But at least she's asleep. And maybe she'll still like the training pants . . .
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