I seem to be the only thing between diapers and a fully potty-trained little girl.
If I was a new Mom, I’d be laughing at me, thinking that my 23-month-old is ready to be potty-trained.
But I’m close to a veteran, having paid dues not once, but thrice to the “Potty-training is much harder than Diapers” club.
But now I’m dealing with something I’ve never encountered.
A toddler who cares.
“Eww.” She wrinkles her nose and points downward.
“Really? We just changed you.”
“Ewww.” She points. I check.
“No, you’re just a little wet. I think we’ll wait until after lunch.”
We both sigh, heavily.
I have no sentimental attachment to diapers, believe me. I simply remember trying to potty-train three year olds (Okay, three and a half year olds) (Fine, three and three-quarters but we’d just moved and had a baby and he still didn’t care.) who couldn’t care less. And I think I still have scars.
It’s going to be different this time. It’s going to be different this time. It’s going to be different this time.