In this house, we are finally free.
Free of tyranny.
Free of restriction.
Free of diapers.
Yes, that’s right…
Of all the amazing things that have happened this summer, the best, the ultimate, the most wonderful was the fact that Tiny is (finally) potty trained.
Yeah, everyone gets potty trained, so why all the fanfare?
Why an entire blog post devoted to it?
Because the stubborn son of a gun is four and a half.
He’s been holding all the cards and we’ve been his pawns.
We haven’t been able to go anywhere without diapers and wipes, and believe me, my friends…they ain’t cheap.
Going to the pool meant swim diapers, and going to the beach meant an awful rash from the sand trapped inside.
It was a battle, and even when we tried to turn it around into no big deal, on the advice of our doctor, no one was fooled…it was still a battle.
Monkey Girl spoiled us.
She was one and a half when she decided she wanted to be trained, and while she ran hot and cold for the next year, two and a half still isn’t bad.
The next two waited until they were almost four, but finally pulled the trigger and so we expected about the same from Tiny.
But Tiny won’t be bound by expectations.
He won’t live by any rules other than those he makes for himself.
And so we begged, we pleaded, we bribed.
We gave him all the power.
Which was exactly how he liked it.
And then, one day, it clicked, and he was tired of the game and decided he was ready.
And that, my friends, was that.
And so, our greatest triumph this summer, was freedom from diapers.
May we never have to change another diaper again.
Well…until the grandchildren, but that’s waaaaaaaay in the future, and by then, I have a feeling we won’t mind so much.
