Go Team Underwear!

There is something completely desperate about having a half-pottytrained two year old. You explain, they stare back at you blankly - or in Meara's case hear nothing you say because all focus is on the M&Ms and "cheeps" (chips) in your pocket. Still, I am happy to report that overall things went great today. So great that Annie had the gall to call and inform me that my next task will be pottytraining Rex. Fabulous. Can't wait. Love pottytraining. Anyone else have an anti-underwear three year old they'd like to send my way? If so, forget it unless you're my little sister with a "broken back" and an absentee husband.

Back to today's pottytraining. I really was concerned there for awhile. The adorable child drank over ten ounces of fluids in a half hour, and one hour and twenty minutes into the thing she still hadn't peed. I'm following the book to the T, and her ten minute sits on the pottychair are producing nothing. The dam was going any minute. It was like watching a time-bomb about to explode.

After ten-minute-sit number three, she stands up, pulls up the Tinkerbell panties, and pees. But only a little. Just enough to put off the explosion, but not enough to eliminate the threat - pressure's still on. So what do I do? Something I wish I had done on child numbers 1,2, and 3. I got out a shallow bowl, filled it with nice warm water, sat her on the pottychair and told her to play. Hands in the water, pee in the pot. We did this all day (once she even accidentally pooped!) until she finally went on her own while I was filling the bowl. We only had one all-out accident, and she's already learned that if she says "potty" bedtime can be postponed indefinitely.

So, a battle is won, the war is on, but things are looking good for Team Underwear. Yea Meara!