Isaiah magically potty trained himself. Of course we knew it was somehow indirectly attributable to our superior parenting skills, but we didn't brag about it. Actually we probably did. So along came Eliza and we are pretty much newbies at the whole potty-training game. I was planning to wait until summer so that I could potty train without worrying about taking them to/from school and such. Then we went to their first day of swimming classes. At the end of class the instructor asked me if Eliza was potty trained. I laughed and said no--duh, you could see like 4 inches of swim diaper--and he didn't laugh and said they have to be potty trained for that class. Basically my choice was to either do yet another mommy-and-me class with her in a diaper, or potty train her. And so we started potty training that day. It would have been nice if she like swimming because then I could say "If you want to go swimming, you have to learn to use the potty." But since both activities were things she hated, I couldn't go that route. Predictably, it went horribly. She had lots of accidents and no successes that day. The following day we went to the Tillamook Cheese Factory, where she had 5 accidents just during our visit (one of them onto my feet). Super fun.
It's been about six weeks now and I'd say she's #1 trained (barring unusual circumstances like long outings or being too busy playing...) but #2 isn't going well at all. So unless you really want to know, you probably shouldn't ask. Because I will tell you. You may even end up on the list of people who get notification via text anytime she poo's in the potty. But don't worry, over the course of the last six weeks you would only have received 3 such texts. And actually, one of those was not in the potty, it was on the side of a trail while we were out hiking, but since it wasn't an accident I let it count. So she'll keep hating it and we'll keep trying to force the issue and someday she'll get it, and then someday later she'll need therapy for all the damage we've done.
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