Sunday, January 08, 2006

Long Live The Queen.


We've started potty-training Samantha, having put it off in the past because Sam hasn't really shown any evidence that she's aware of her own disgusting bodily functions, although sometimes she does giggle when she farts. Still, she's getting so big that soon we'll have to switch her to "Depends," so, time to start training. We decided to start her training the same week as Elvis' birthday in the hope that someday she'll be as comfortable on the shitter as The King was.

Bobbi suggested we bring the potty into the living room, to make it easier to get Sam to it when there's an accident. I thought it was a great idea because, seriously, I've been trying to talk her into letting me pee in the living room for years. Sam has no problem sitting on the potty, it's the using that trips her up. She loves to sit on the potty all the time, pontificating from her own little throne right in front of the big-screen and really, who can blame her. If I could watch "Law and Order" while taking a dump, I would. The problem is that she never does anything but sit. Yesterday she actually went to Bobbi and said, "Potty," for the first time without being prompted, which sent us into panic mode, running around like fireman when the bell goes off, trying to get her to the potty on time. After about 12 times with no fire, we started to get a little annoyed. Finally, she actually went potty and ohhh, how we celebrated! We laughed, we cried, and there was much rejoicing at the glorious urine in the living room. It was a much different response than the one I got on New Year's Eve 2003, when I too produced urine in the living room. But, to be fair, we had carpet back then.

By far, the most fun I had this weekend came when Sam started peeing in the corner... then started running... then slipped in her own pee... then had to be cleaned up and changed while Mac was screaming. Why did this bring me joy? Because I wasn't home when it happened. The look of frustration and disgust on my wife's face when I came home is a look I get about twice a day. Welcome to my world, baby. I hope you brought Lysol.

2 Comments:

Joanne said...

That's great! You're so funny! I have to potty train my son, but I've been procrastinating it. He turns 3 in a couple of weeks. I better get on it. You've given me hope!

Now I have to buy some Cheerios so he can aim at something in the toilet...just hope he doesn't fish them out and eat them after.

2:18 AM  
Michele said...

Heh the last bit brings forth images of Vern Troyer peeing off from his Hoveround looking scooter on the Surreal Life. Yes, I watch crap reality tv shows ... just to see "celebrities" make total asses of themselves.

When I was potty training Emma I pretty much let her take charge and it was easy since she hated being wet. Pooping on the other hand ... she would hold it until I'd put a diaper on her. Then she went through a stage (a very long stage) where she wouldn't .... finish. All so she would have poop for the next time she went potty!

She seems to be normal now but believe me, I was starting to wonder back then.

I have a feeling this one is going to be a hell raiser. She's pretty much the polar opposite of what Emma was when she was a baby.

But enough about me .... I wish both you and Bobbi luck in this next chapter of the world of potty. If all else fails I remember seeing a book in Target that gave great instructions (in pictures!) for the kiddos ... along with toilet flushing sound effects!

11:16 PM  

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