Momnesia

The Te of Potty Training

Yesterday was a landmark day: Emerson went poopy in her potty. We'd been keeping an eye open for an opportunity to plop her on the potty so that she could plop something in the potty, and yesterday she was doing the thing that told me I was dangerously close to fishing another floater out of the bathtub. So I snatched her up and sat her down, and she went and we all cheered like crazy. She pointed repeatedly and said, "Emmie guh poo-poo."

The problem is that Emmie hates to go poo-poo. She holds it until you think her little ass will explode. I tell you, if I were ever looking for a way to smuggle a watch out of a P.O.W. camp, her butt would be the ideal place to hide it. She clenches her little fists and stares wide-eyed and intense, shaking and sometimes wailing with the effort.

In short, she's nutso. But that's to be expected, coming from our collective gene pool.

I know everyone is just SO happy that we've entered into what will probably be a six-month obsession with where, when and how much Emerson makes a doody deposit. So just stay tuned. There's more to come.