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| Our sleep anywhere girl... |
It is never going to end! I am almost sure of it: Potty training is an everlasting
process and I am destined to have a key role in keeping that little bottom
clean for all of eternity. I know it isn’t true, but gads, it sure does feel
that way. We have been actively potty training for more than half of the
Figlet’s short life!
The duration is, in many ways, our own fault. The interest was there
early, so we jumped at the opportunity. We set the potty up in back corner of
the kitchen (the room central to it all). We had a few no pants days. Much to
our surprise, it worked. It wasn’t 100% but she started using the potty pretty
regularly. It was cause for celebration! We danced. We sang. We composed odes
to the long forgotten diapers of yore. But then the weather got cold. Pants
became more essential. She had trouble getting them down. More importantly,
Figlet got bored and digressed. She wasn’t as ready as we’d hoped.
Sometimes I think that those guys that wear their pants down around their
thighs are mocking me. They know how much bare bottom I have seen. Somehow they
sense it. They know how happy I would be to never again have to deal with anyone
rushing with pants round knees, leaving a dribble trail en route to the potty.
They sense my fleeting hope of it ever ending and threaten to drop trou just to
rub it in.
When warm weather arrived, her interest began to rekindle. The dusty
potty in the kitchen corner saw increasingly regular use. The diaper count
dwindled to half what it had once been, remaining essential only for overnights
and outings. The potty traveled with us when we went away for a few days but
was largely ignored. Using the potty was a home thing, which was progress. But
then it wasn’t. It was just a stand still.
When it comes to potty training, my present self laughs at the self of
the recent past. You thought THAT was going to be the last case of diapers
you’d buy?! You thought that pull ups would be anything more than poorly fitting
diapers that are a pain to get on? You thought that calling training pants
‘fancy pants’ it would be incentive to keep them dry? You thought that you’d be
done with this by now? Bwah, ha, ha! You have been through this before! You
should have known that the Figlet would dash such dreams into a puddle on the
floor - repeatedly!
I do know that potty training won’t last forever. The Figlet is making
progress again. At home and on short outings ‘fancy pants’ are the rule. Accidents
happen. When they do, I give our washing machine a little hug, the then remind
myself the potty training golden rule: It will be over before her college
applications are due.
I hope that this letter has found you and yours in good spirits and good
health. Until I write again…
