Well, I am learning that a 3rd child is determined to grow up as fast as she can. Hannah is only one, and absolutely does not accept this fact. When I look at her struggling desperately to keep up with her older sister and brother, the phrase, “no man left behind” always seems to buzz in my ears.
I have given in to potty training a 22-month-old child only because her will is bigger than mine right now. She was driving her older sister crazy by pulling her diaper off, going in Micah’s closet, and putting on her underwear. So I was hopeful. I went to Target and loaded up on “big girl underwear” and pull ups. Well, she was on to the pull-ups. No Way, Jose! They are not “big girl underwear”. Training underwear? Not falling for that one either. The only thing that will do is: Dora The Explorer and Little Pony.
What I have learned about these cute little brands of “big girl underwear” is how LITTLE pee and poop they hold! Hell, they come off DRY after accidents. Lots of motivation to wear the underwear, and not so much to actually go in the potty. So far, I think we have peed in every store I go on a regular basis, both cars, all over the yard, and in every room of our house (especially the ones with carpet). So I, in response, have resorted to every form of bribery known to man; including but not limited to;… chocolate, stickers, and a potty that plays music when you go. Oh yeah, and switching them out for pull-ups once that sweet angel has fallen asleep at night!
The second thing I gave into was Crocs. This is not my idea of a supportive toddler shoe, but at least now, she has them in her own size, and her sister got hers back. Walking to the park takes 3 times as long because she can’t keep them on. Running is not an option….. Falling down? ……. twice as much. But who am I to judge happiness, right?
Now Hannah is a genius talker, but the “r” sound is not in her repertoire as of yet. Especially with the pacifier in her mouth. So Crocs comes out…… cocks.
You can imagine her father’s face (and heart rate) the first time his sweet innocent baby girl said, “Daddy I like cocks”. (and truly she talks to him about her “cocks” much more than to me).
“Daddy I need my cocks” ; “Daddy I can’t find my cocks”; “Daddy where did my cocks go?” “DADDY I WANT MY COCKS!!!!”
I can’t decide if all of this is designed to keep me young? or age me at the speed of light?