A friend of mine (hi, Beka!) recently said that the Hayward-Uptons' lives looked like a fairy tale, as far as she could tell from this blog. I laughed heartily. I must need to put in some more reality. Here's reality around these parts lately:
That's Frances dear with her potty on her head because we've started potty training.
I had always planned to let Frances initiate potty training herself. I'd been told over and over by all sorts of mothers that waiting until your kid was ready to potty train was vastly easier than imposing potty training on an unready kid. I tried to wait, I really did. But I was getting so tired of buying diapers. And then Frances turned three. And then Frances's friend, who was born the same day as Frances, potty trained apparently painlessly. That's when my ever-guttering maternal instinct failed completely.
I honestly can't say how it's going. Some days Frances seems to really get it. She's even woken up in the morning with a dry diaper several times. Some days I do a lot of laundry. A lot of laundry. Unfortunately, she does best when watching TV next to her potty while naked. Don't for a minute think that I think this is a coincidence. The kid loves watching TV, and she doesn't mind being naked either.
And sometimes, she uses the potty as a hat.
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