Everytime I lose my bloggy-writing mojo, I feel like I have to re-enter with a deep, spiritually significant, poignant comeback post with a beautiful pinnable graphic and scheduled tweets to promote. Our family’s coming off a week of awful illness, I’m overwhelmed in a few ways, and I’m just plain coming to realize…

…ain’t nobody got time for that kind of writing right now.

You guys, I just need to write. JUST. WRITE. And not worry about who think what of the letters my fingers tap out. And not worry that it’s not a publishable piece of perfection (can you tell we’ve been watching Mr. Popper’s Penguins on repeat for a week?) And not worry that it doesn’t get a single comment or share. I just need to write. It’s like practicing an instrument, developing muscle memory.

Don’t ask my mother how often I practiced my instruments growing up. It’s about like I write now except worse. Did you know it’s possible to get D’s in band? Someday my fingers will produce a poignant and beautifully pinnable piece, but for now they just need reminding, stretching out over the keys, and for the next few days I will just write. And today I will just write about potty training.

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Over the last couple weeks I’ve been button-bursting proud of my little boy. For the past eighteen-ish months, we’ve been potty training. I can’t wait to share with you our super well thought out, planned, easy breezy, failproof and fast method. Can you sense my sarcasm? Cause I’m laying it on pretty thick… (a dozen cool points if you can name that movie) But two weeks ago, it clicked and all ON HIS OWN, he started consistently using the toilet for BOTH #1 and #2, and overnight. OVERNIGHT. Like as in he went to bed wearing underwear, got up at midnight and came to tell us he had to go, used the toilet, went back to bed, and woke up DRY.

I mean.

this is how we feel about being a big boy.

 

And you guys, he is SO proud of himself! He just laughs when he’s going, and tells people with a grin, “I wearing underpants!” And I’ve never been more proud of anything in my life than I am of him right now. He’s doing big scary things like using public toilets like a pro, wiping himself, and singing the Daniel Tiger potty song the whole time (‘When you have to go potty, stop and go right away! Flush and wash and be on your way.’ God bless you, Daniel Tiger.)

I tell you what, Olaf and Snoopy underwear are gifts straight from the Lord. Also are Olaf-shaped Pez dispensers. Because when the potty training child realizes he gets a treat every time he goes, kid doesn’t forget and is now a potty training child on a sugar high. So the Pez? They’re both tiny and fun. Winner.

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To summarize:

  • Just writing happening here
  • Olaf & Snoopy underwear + Olaf Pez dispenser = happy potty training kiddo
  • Eighteen months of his leading and our making space for him to grow into it
  • Let Daniel Tiger teach the ways – to both parents and kids

Potty training. Part one. Boom.

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