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Foodie is almost two so, I have decided it’s high time she at least consider using the toilet for something other than a Barbie hot tub. So, we are going to jump right in. Sounds like a great idea, right?
9:00am: I place Foodie on the toilet and she squeals about the Elmo and Cookie Monster patterns on the kiddie potty seat for 15 minutes. No production. Foodie is now in obnoxious Yo Gabba Gabba underwear.
9:47am: Foodie said, “Pee!” so she was wrenched from her rocking chair and urgently rushed to the bathroom. She gave us one fart.
10:00am: Nap time. She is in a diaper for “safe keeping”.
10:36am: Foodie wakes up dry! There was much rejoicing! She still won’t pee on the potty, though.
11:02am: Daddy takes Foodie to the potty. She has mastered the toilet paper and farting. She’s gifted.
11:25am: Since all is going well, I give Foodie her lunch. She is sitting, eating an orange, and peeing all over her booster seat and the floor within seconds. Nice.
11:26am: I am mopping the floor as Foodie helpfully tells me she peed.
11:36am: Foodie is now completely nude and asks to go potty. She tells me, “I fahted.” I make a mental note to stop listening to Car Talk when she is riding with me.
11:57am: Foodie wants to go potty again. No, she doesn’t. Yes, she does. No, she doesn’t… We spend 5 minutes longer than it takes to pull a muscle in one’s back putting her on and taking her off the potty per her shrill requests. More Yo Gabba Gabba underwear.
12:01pm: Foodie insists that she is fully capable of putting her underwear on all by herself.
12:02pm: She gives up on the panties and states her preference for nudity.
12:08pm: She’s on the couch with Daddy. I am concerned she will pee on him without him noticing until it’s way too late. But, I sort of don’t want to warn him just to see what happens when he notices he’s in a puddle.
12:54pm: I try to sneak off to the bathroom but, Foodie has pee-dar and knows when I would like a moment by myself. She stands on the other side of the bathroom door demanding to be let in because she’s, “gotta go pee da potty!” I tell her to keep her shirt on and wait because it’s undoubtably another false alarm.
12:55pm: It wasn’t.
12:56pm: Daddy cleans up Foodie as I mop up another large puddle. This is going great.
12:58pm: She’s coming up to me butt-naked and saying, “Poop in da potty. Lotsta poopies.” My highly trained intuition tells me she might just have a Big Event Number Two in the very near future. I follow her with a plastic baggie just in case.
1:03pm: Foodie asks to visit the restroom again. I have a brilliant idea. I ask her to fart in hopes she’ll, well, shart. She responds to my request by sticking out her tongue and saying, “All done!” You win this round, little girl…
1:17pm: She’s running around with sunglasses on. Just sunglasses. No clothing. She’s giving us a whole new set of issues to worry about after she masters the toilet.
1:21pm: A nap has been mandated. For me. Foodie is put back in to a diaper and has been compelled to nap as well.
3:00pm: Naptime over. There is a rather large present in my child’s diaper waiting for me. Well, at least it wasn’t on the carpet.
3:01pm: I trip on the way to the garbage can. Now it’s on the carpet.
3:47pm: Foodie is sat on the potty. Nothing.
3:49pm: While playing outside with her brothers, she takes off her pants and pees in the front yard. Traffic slows. Passerbys gawk. I make a mental note to move soon.
5:15pm: We made it through dinner without incident. Foodie crawls in to my lap for a post-meal snuggle and poops a little. She is very proud.
5:16pm: She is placed on the potty just in case the tank isn’t fully emptied while I pre-wash my pants in the sink. No production.
5:24pm: Foodie lays down on the living room floor holding a diaper with her feet in the air. “Putta diaper on!” she insists. I am sure that is a good sign?
6:28pm: It’s been a while since anything was expelled from Foodie. I am getting nervous as bathtime is approaching.
6:45pm: Bathtime. I am praying there will be no “brown trout” tonight. I also explain that the tub is now called an Ool. There’s no ‘P’ in our Ool. Let’s keep it that way.
6:48pm: Brown trout sighting! But, it is unclear who is the producer of the brown trout. This is getting bad.
7:08pm: Foodie is back on the potty, singing about crackers. Is she talking about food or me? Maybe I should consider tanning.
7:15pm: She peed on the couch.
7:16pm: I consider writing love letters to the makers of Resolve Fabric and Upholstery Cleaner.
7:25pm: As I am tucking a diapered and pajama’d Foodie in to bed, she tells me she has to go pee. I just back out of the room and close the door. I have reached my daily threshold for bodily fluids.
7:31pm: Oh my God, I have to pee like a racehorse…