Remember that whole constipation thing? If not, scroll down. Remember now? OK, good. Anyway, so that's done. Over. Through. Kaput. We went from plugged to potty-trained overnight.
Never under-estimate the power of jelly beans and stickers to motivate a child. Interestingly, this strategy didn't work at all for months, but as we all by now know when a kid is ready, he or she is READY, and you've got to be there, armed with whatever enthusiasm for public urination you can muster.
All the credit on this goes to Oodgie, who smelled change in
her the wind as I was heading out the door for my umpteenth business trip in as many days. Although I regret not being there to applaud every tinkle while I was chugging Fat Tire on a corporate boondoggle lonely and bored on the road, I'm immensely proud of Oodgie's determination to pounce on the opportunity. My one complaint is that the requisite celebration involved a trip to Target to purchase "big girl pants," which inadvertently led to Cheeky selecting underwear branded with satanic characters. I would have preferred Thundercats Underoos, but it wasn't my call.
The downside of all this is that Cheeky is tapping her kidneys every ten minutes. She'll have her underwear back around her ankles before the sound of toilet flush has died. You'd think dropping the kids off at the pool or shedding a tear for old Ireland (or my personal favorite, taking the Browns to the Super Bowl) was the best thing ever. And frankly if I got a treat every time I did that I'd probably think so, too.