that potty thing...

I came to a shocking realization the other day.

Betsy is potty trained.

She's still wearing a Pull Up at night, and I still have to remind her to go every couple of hours, but she hasn't had an accident in at least a month. I've been planning my errands around her bladder capacity, but lately, we've been working on introducing the concept of Other Places Have Potties Too. The church has potties, and the library has potties, and (this is the best) the museum has little child-sized potties. Of course this means I have to avoid locations which are likely to have really sketchy restrooms... but that's a good idea anyway.

I can't even begin to explain how this has affected my quality of life. Considering that she wasn't even trying to do it after her fourth birthday, I was convinced (and justifiably so) that she would never be potty trained. She would need to go to a state school so that she could come home for a diaper change between classes. I know, everyone says "She'll do it when she's ready." But I would have liked it if her readiness took less time to obtain than a college degree. We weren't getting along, and frankly, I was one unhappy mama. Betsy's found the key to getting on my good side, and it involves toilets.

I think, if she comes home with a tattooed boyfriend named 'Snake' when she's sixteen, I won't mind. I'll just still be so happy that she's wearing underpants.

And yes, that photo was taken for the express purpose of creating a scrapbook page. Is that a weird thing to scrapbook about? It's such a monumental event - at least on the level of childbirth or a new house - that I have to document it. Plus I have this really cute paper...