If one more person asks me if Miss A, at nearly 32 months old, is potty trained yet, I’m going to get a t-shirt printed for her that says:
“Still Shitting in My Pants and Loving It!”
Miss C was potty trained at 33 months. I only remember this (I am notoriously bad about forgetting dates and times and I can’t remember the last time I entered anything in an official baby book) because that’s how old she was when Miss A was born and I was bound and determined to have Miss C out of diapers by the time baby sister arrived. I’ve been admittedly lax on the potty training with Miss A, but her daycare teacher is working with her. She’ll go at home if enticed with jelly beans or M&Ms and wouldn’t you know she requested “I GO POTTY!” at the soccer fields this morning. You know, when the only available toilet was a porta potty. We let that request slide. Plus it was 40-something degrees outside.
All kidding aside, it’s been a great morning. Miss C had her last soccer game of the fall season. It was bright and early (and cold) at 8 a.m., her team won, and she scored two goals in a row. Go Miss C! Maybe it was her lucky haircut?