I feel like I should be talking about the inauguration, given where I live.
But I’m not. I didn’t catch Obama-fever and I will let time and actions show me what kind of President he is, rather than rush to comment on it. All I know now is he left the corner I inhabit untouched and so it has yet to change anything for me…other than make for a huge increase in paperflow up till the point he asked everyone to stay on. And make me take two days of leave rather than one (I don’t get MLK day or inauguration day off, but we are not allowed to go into work either…hence required leave).
I will talk rather about a far more universal subject. One that took my weekends attention.
POTTY TRAINING! (and if you don’t think potty training is more universally important, you are not to ever sit on my furniture)
…And mostly, how we are apparently not quite ready for it.
Yes, Sasha understands about pulling pants down to sit on the potty. He knows you flush. And he both knows when he’s about to go and is happy to tell me because he hates being messy. Unfortunately, we met LOTS of resistance to actual pottying. He wouldn’t sit long enough, making a trail of mess EVERYWHERE. He didn’t like the little green cup that goes in there to catch the waste, instead attempting to exchange it (repeatedly) for a dog dish filled with water…making more mess because he clutched the dish to his chest to carry it. Water everywhere. Not to mention the urine as he leapt off the potty to race across the room to get the dog dish or the splashes of urine as he tried to grab out the little cup I was trying to hold down. Or how about how I got hosed when he took off the little shield and tossed it?
Oh, and poop. I don’t even want to remember it, much less recount it.
So we’re going to put it all away and try again later.
Meanwhile, this whole experience has reminded how easy it is to be naked from the waist down. Yay!
Nothing like catching your son trying to get “doggy kisses” on his nethers thru the baby gate.
I’m scarred. Scarred, I tell you.