Monday, January 11, 2010
I'm a pretty organized person, unfortunately, the rest of my family, not so much. Nothing irks me more than to see the newly folded laundry dumped out all over the floor or the playroom yet again in disarray after cleaning it less than an hour ago. With two kids, usually you don't know who the culprit is, except that my youngest leaves a calling card. Next to that big mess, like a beacon, is usually a used diaper. Fortunately, it's normally just wet, but still not that fun to find. Why can't she use 20 dollar bills as calling cards? Perhaps swiped from my husbands wallet or something. That would be super fun! I might even forget about the mess.
We're in the midst of potty training right now (oh joy) and we've found that the best way to train Ryah is to keep her bottomless. So the fact that she removes her diapers is a good sign she doesn't want to be in them. She's also one of those nekkid children who sheds clothes faster than you can put them on her. So at any given time, she's likely to be bare-assed and livin' free running through my living room. Those unexpected drop in visitors usually get more than they bargained for. See, you should have called first.
On the off chance I manage to get a dress on her, to at least cover her bottom, she's more likely than not going to do a somersault or lay on her back, feet flailing, in front of company. I think that's usually more shocking than had she been naked to begin with. At least there wouldn't be any Basic Instinct surprises. "Whoa, where's her diaper?" "Probably next to the toys she just dumped out all over the floor."
I have the whole scenario in my head. Ryah looks to the left, then the right, to make sure the coast is clear. Then she smiles "the big cheese," turns into Tornado Ryah, and checks again to make sure no one is looking while she removes her diaper to mark her territory. I guess it beats her actually peeing on it.
While this time around, potty training is a bit easier, it's certainly has it's calling card downfalls. Not to mention the inevitable naptime whine, "Mommmeeeee, Ryah's poopy!!!" And when I hear that, I already know it's too late, she's no longer wearing the diaper. Ugh.
Let's just hope for her sake, and mine, that we get this potty training thing nailed sooner rather than later. Unless she starts leaving 20 dollar bills lying around. I think I might be okay with that.