Ah, potty training. The books, magazines and tv tell you the kids will tell you when it’s time.
Don’t push, they’ll rebel. Don’t punish, they”ll regress. Don’t forget to prod, they need reminders.
Other moms will take a haughty or condescending tone and let you know that milestone has already come,gone and been scrapbooked.
Older women, maybe relatives, maybe just nosy neighbors will get that tinny tone and flutter and ask why it hasn’t happened yet. Or criticize the “way you’re doing it.”
Let me just speak for mothers like me everywhere by saying, “We ain’t doing it in any way. It is being done at the sole discretion of the toddler so, no pun intended (but thoroughly enjoyed) BUTT OUT.”
I’m kidding. It’s an interesting odyssey that I never expected to have any control, leverage or shred of influence over. So along I merrily go buying Pull Ups and training pants, Elmo and Dora seats, making sticker charts and learning new ways to entertain myself as I wait patiently and unjudgementally in the bathroom.
Hey Briar, think you might go potty?
No.
You mind if I just take off my Zoe slipper?
Sure. You gonna go potty?
Ah, heck, might as well just shuck my pants off.
Gonna go potty?
Wait a minute, you’re taking pictures.
How about going potty?
Ha ha ha ha ha and I am eating cheese.
A close look at the continuity error of her pants lets you know the dialogue isn’t exactly how it went down (which it never did) but (hahahah) it’s close. If nothing else I figure she got her RDA of dairy.