I think Mark Twain said that. Or maybe Margaret Thatcher. I get confused.
|wearing my overalls, circa 1986|
The Baby is NOT a fan of being clothed. I mean, she makes do in public- we have yet to experience a full disrobing outside the house. But when we're at home? 92% of the time, she's nekkid as a jay bird.
*side note* Jeremy and I have had a relationship-long dispute over this phrase: he thinks it's "naked as a blue jay" but I have always heard "naked as a jay bird." What say you, oh wise readers?
She and her siblings are so often in their birthday suits that my friend Audreya tweeted the other day:
Every single time Aud has visited us, one or more of my children have been nekkid. And, usually, it's The Baby. Okay, it's always The Baby.
Her naked booty normally doesn't bother me. In fact, this time of life is a blessing to my mother-heart. There is no sucking-in of the belly. There is no pushing out of the boobies. There is not a hint of self-consciousness in the way my babies carry themselves. Plus, really, we stay home most days and rarely have company that isn't kin (which may or may not be why I spend so much time on the twitters), so I'm pretty much okay with the naked. Saves on laundry work.
The only thing is, I have GOT to get this kid out of diapers.
Potty training the first two was easy, or so I remember. With The Boy, I just told him to watch carefully and "do what Daddy does." With The Girl, I was anxious to get away from buying two sizes of diapers (since she was 2 when The Baby was born), and I don't remember much, except that she took to the potty (and the bribe-prize M&M's) quickly.
Both of the elder Bees were fully potty trained by their third birthdays. (Although, because
The Baby will be three in 54 days.
To be fair, she pee-pees in the potty 100% of the time... if she's nekkid. One hundred percent. But if she's wearing panties? She'll just pee right in 'em as if they're diapers.
Even though she totally knows they're not, and she totally looks at me with her demented little face and she totally laughs her maniacal laugh and then totally innocently asks for a bath, pretty pretty please.
I thought maybe some new panties would work some new-panty magic. (Ladies, you know what I'm talkin' 'bout here, right? Sometimes, some new skivvies just makes you feel... better.) I bought her some Big Girl Undies last night instead of the thick cotton training ones.
This morning, she was ecstatic over new drawers. She shrieked with glee. She put on a pair and pranced, actually pranced, around the house.
And twenty minutes later, she'd tinkled all over them.
I just don't remember how to do this part.
How do I convince her not to wee-wee in her unmentionables?
She's too smart for bribery, she's too brazen for admonishment, and by this child -baby number three- we've learned that discipline is not a great tool for successful potty training.
So, help me out, you beautiful internet patrons, you.
What do I do now?
ps- we're not even going to mention the poop situation right now. just don't bring it up. just. don't.