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It’s one of those rare times that I’m up before my daughter. I figure it’s a good day for it, because I have to prepare myself mentally for what’s ahead.
We’re potty training. For reals.
Claudia had her second birthday in July. I got her a potty seat and a step stool just before her birthday. It’s not that I’m in any particular rush to get her started; I’m not CRAZY about changing diapers or anything, but I figured, at the time, that I may as well get her familiar with the whole thing. She’s been following me into the bathroom long enough to know what goes on in there.
(Instagrammed proof of her open mind)
She was cool with sitting on it. Would even go in the bathroom and put it on the toilet herself and sit there, albeit fully clothed and without actually depositing anything in there. But she wasn’t staunchly against it or anything. No rush. Let her test the toilet waters, so to speak.
And then, each time she peed in her diaper, she began undressing herself and removing her diaper, sometimes bringing you a fresh one to put on her. She’s doing this thing where she sort of goes into the other room and just hangs out and plays quietly (with her feet, usually), or occasionally goes down for her nap. And sometimes, she goes into another room quietly and emerges completely nude. If she was going to be so acutely aware of when she’d peed herself and how uncomfortable it is to pee yourself, I figured I’d actually give it a go and use the 3 day potty training method. It requires me to spend the first day at home (DONE!), and to have her run around bare bottomed all day. Just as well, since this appears to be her preference anyway. I’ll have a lot of annoying things to contend with today, but chief among them? Keeping Max, the 11 month old, from playing with the portable potty. They fight over who gets to play with it.
Claudia is now bare bottomed and is having her cereal. Lord beer me strength.