This summer I've been focusing on reading young adult literature. I've been trying to read more of it 1)because there are fantastic ya lit books out there and 2) I teach middle school and like to recommend books to my students. I compile my reading lists from local librarians, friends, and the blogosphere. There are so many excellent blogs available that focus on this genre. The other day I came across Princess Bookie. Not only is the content great, but the image of the cupcakes is enough of a reason to visit. Check it out!
ALERT: The following is a story about my peeps. If you enjoy hilarious stories about other peoples' toddlers, potty training, and poop, please read on. If not, check out some of my earlier blogs or visit Princess Bookie.
The peeps are potty training. Well, sort of. When their mom and dad feel like putting some effort into it, they are potty training. Here's my philosophy: Almost every mom I have talked to said they pushed and pushed their kid to train until they gave up in frustration. It was only after they gave up that their child decided they wanted to pee-pee on the potty. I have never met an adult who was not potty trained. Some of those people have been complete idiots. My peeps are brilliant, so I'm pretty confident that they will get it figured out with only a little prompting from me. If they aren't potty trained by the time they hit kindergarten, then I'll worry.
About 50% of the time, Audrey will tell me she needs to sit on the big girl potty. I finally figured out that she tells me when she wants to try for the "special prize" - ice cream. (We've changed the "special prize" to stickers in the past few days). The other afternoon, I was running around the house like a crazed woman, trying to grill chicken thighs, boil carrots, and tend to Ruthie's digestive issues. In the middle of this, Audrey announces she needs to sit on the big girl potty. I tried to dissuade her, but my "mom voice" whispered that I had to embrace every potty training opportunity. So, I dragged the potty chair into the kitchen, got Audrey situated, and went about fixing dinner. I ducked outside for 15 seconds to turn the chicken. When I stepped back in, the girls were hovered over the potty chair, pointing to something inside.
The peeps (gesticulating wildly): What ith that, Mommy? What ith that?
I am only 2.5 years into mommyhood, but I know enough that when the peeps are pointing at something, gesturing, and dancing, then I should be concerned. I cautiously crossed the kitchen and peered down into the chamber. A lone poop nugget stared back at me.
Me: What do you think it is?
Ruthie (throwing her hands up in the air and grinning): It's a grape! Mommy, Audrey made a grape!
Me: Uh, not exactly. Let me ask you this: Where did it come from?
Audrey (pointing to herself): Audrey's hiney.
Me: OK. What usually comes out of Audrey's hiney?
Audrey: A grape!
Me: No, honey. It's not a grape. It's poop! You pooped in the potty!
At this point, Audrey becomes distraught and starts wailing. Apparently, she didn't realize she was supposed to poop in the potty. After several minutes, she calms down. About that time, Mark arrives home from work.
Audrey: Daddy! I made a grape!
And the ride on the poop coaster continues.