As you know, potty training Jane was a holy hellish nightmare from the depths of Hades. Basically, it was bad. We started in January, and it wasn't until June that I felt safe to put her in underwear - and that was when I was having a mental breakdown because she was regressing terribly in her Pull-Ups - having accidents all the time - and I couldn't take it anymore. I knew she was ready, so I said, "THAT'S IT. YOU'RE GOING TO UNDERWEAR." (Just like that. All caps-style.) And that day she had one accident in her underwear, and has been great since. Sure, we spend hours of quality time in public restrooms, but it's worth it.
However, since then I have kept her in Pull-Ups at night. I just didn't want to have to deal with middle-of-the-night accidents (because I'm lazy). But over the past couple of months, she has had a dry Pull-Up pretty much every morning. So last week, when we ran out of Pull-Ups, instead of giving the fine people at the Pampers Corporation anymore of my hard-earned dollars, I said, once again, "THAT'S IT. YOU'RE DONE." (But not as loud this time.)
Now, waaaaaay back in January, when my brain was spiraling out of control because potty training sucks complete and total ass, my lovely and very talented friend Lisa sensed that I was losing my shit, to put it mildly. Lisa, who is very talented at cooking, baking, making jewelry, art, raising chickens, and riding motorcyles, among many other things, offered me a light at the end of the tunnel - she would make me a delicious cake once Jane was potty trained. And maybe she said it out of desperation, just wanting me to SHUT THE EFF UP about potty training, but I never forgot the promise. And when Jane was officially and truly and completely done with potty training last week, I knew it was time to cash in, so I've helpfully reminded Lisa several times of her promise.
Well, apparently Jane felt she needed to prove a point. Lisa and her equally-lovely husband Luke were at our house this morning, as they were coming to pick up a motorcycle from our basement that they had purchased from my father-in-law, after coveting it for several years. While we were hanging outside, enjoying the amazingly beautiful weather, I saw Jane dragging something outside from the garage. I noticed that it was the little kid potty we had kept downstairs during the godforsaken training period. She hasn't used it in many months. She then brought it out to the driveway, pulled her pants down, sat down, and peed right in front of me and Lisa. As if to say, "where is my cake?"
But there's no way I'm sharing it with her.
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3 comments:
If I peed in your driveway, I would probably get arrested. This is a ridiculous double standard, and I refuse to accept it.
pictures, dammit. i was told there would be pictures and videos on the weekends so that i wouldn't have to read through your (increasingly) long blogs, contemplate their meanings, contemplate the meaning of life, and then think of something inspired to write.
so fine, you don't want to give me pictures? i will give you this in all of its relevance: "ils n'ont plus de pain? eh bien, qu'ils mangent de la brioche." - marie antoinette
good night, and good luck.
ps: in response to your yesterday's blog, i have many weekend plans, but the most interesting of which is that i'm rereading harry potter and the deathly hallows before is see the new movie (in 5 days, 21 minutes, 57 seconds)
That was pretty awesome. I promise I'm looking for just the right recipe for a "blue cake", as Jane requested.
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