So, we're working on the potty-training dealio. Monkey's OK with the general concept, but still not at 100% of implementation. She's a work in progress.
The past couple weeks, she has been spending her days in big-girl panties. Our Gift-of-God babysitter supreme takes care of her own 5-year-old son, 5-year-old nephew, and 2-year-old niece (Monkey's BFF) in addition to Monk.
We'd started at home, (slowly) introducing Monk to the potty concept once she turned 18 months. I didn't want to rush her and plus, it took a little time for her to be able to climb up on her potty chair unassisted. I kinda figured taking a face-plant tumble onto the bathroom floor would not boost Monkey's enthusiasm for using the toilet.
So we started slowly. But, now that her BFF is raring to go (literally, ha ha!), both girls are sporting licensed characters on their girlie parts and generally no pants, since as anyone who has attempted potty training can tell you: time is of the essence.
There's often little to no warning. Pants are a hindrance to getting there in time.
But yesterday, she was doing sooooooooo well. She even had *pants* on OVER her Dora undies. Good timing, good progress = go, Monk, go!
Apparently, MY timing was perfect yesterday too:
I got there about a minute after Monkey let loose a flood that would make a clydesdale proud.
And, uh, NOT on the potty chair. Dang.
There's a window on the front of Gift-of-God's (can I just call her GOG? I dig that) house that looks into (or out of, if you prefer) the family room where most of play time happens.
I peeked in to wave and saw Monkey (in a diaper) making a hugely exaggerated frowny face and GOG maneuvering stuff into a plastic bag.
So I head inside, and am greeted with:
"MOMMA!! I *PEED* all over da pwace."
I sighed and asked how bad the damage was...
GOG: "Down to the socks. Actually... IN the socks. They're, uh, in the bag."
Monkey: <grinning ear to ear> "Yeah. I peed in my socks!"
Sometimes, Laundry Night just announces itself, huh?