Oh, Shit

I’m trying to potty train Emma. She has to be out of diapers to go to the Montessori school in the fall. One thing that worked with Ian was to let him run around the house without a diaper. I think it makes the kid more aware of their private parts just hanging out. What really makes it work, though, is the parent seeing the kid without a diaper every 30 seconds and asking if they have to go on the potty. So Saturday morning was kinda chill. I took Emma’s diaper off and we were making breakfast and such. She was running around, reading, doing a puzzle, eating, goofing off with her sibs, watching some TV. I was able to get her to go on the potty a couple times (with 3 chocolate chips for treats every time) and she had a few pee-pee accidents, one in the bathroom within inches of the desired target, one in the kitchen on the linoleum, and one in the front room on the carpet (grab the Lysol, Papa).

We finally wrapped things up around 11:30 as it was time to go car shopping. I diped her up and got everyone ready and into the car. I had to run in to grab the diaper bag and my shades. As I’m going back out, I look down at the carpet and I’m like “Damn. The cats must have shit on the carpet. I wonder if they’re getting sick or something. The litter boxes are pretty clean.” Then I look again. “Hmm. That didn’t come out of a cat. Oh, no. Eeeeeeeeew!”

The fun of potty training.