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Potty Training

A month ago, I proudly announced to friends and family that Elizabeth, genius two-year-old that she is, had potty trained herself. And it really looked as if that was what had happened.

From Pull Ups to underwear in a week with only the rare accident. She was even waking up dry. It was a monumental day in our house as I tried to decide what to do with all the extra money I’d have.

 

New shoes for mama? After almost six years of diaper/Pull-up buying, I deserve a pair of new shoes.

 

Hair cuts for the whole family? Lord knows we all need them.

 

Eyebrows waxed? Considering I’m currently the poster child for Stop Unibrow Now (SUN), a waxing would actually be for the good of all mankind.

 

Movie night? With the cost of movie tickets skyrocketing, the one box of Pull Ups pretty much equals one ticket.

 

As I fantasized about money for an extra dozen donuts and joining a wine club, something strange happened.

 

It started slowly. We took a trip to Disneyland where she was amazingly good about using the toilet. Then, on the way home, she didn’t tell me she’d wet her Pull Up. I understood she was probably exhausted from the excitement of the week and didn’t think much of it.

 

But over the course of the next week, she stopped going in the toilet and started going in her pants.

 

When I asked her why, she looked at me out of her wide blue eyes and said, “I a baby, Mommy. I don’t wear big girl unders.”

 

So we’re back to the drawing board and buying Pull Ups. Excuse me while I go take out a second mortgage.

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