La Princesse

Lest anyone think we are delusional about our social status or that we think our child is the greatest invention ever (which she is, but I digress), this Huzzah is going to be about...potties. I can't even believe I'm actually writing this, and I'm sure in twelve years Bean will be beyond horrified that I declared to the known universe her foray into toilet training, but wait until I explain the nature of her training potty. Seriously.

Because of her various delays/disabilities, it struck me that toilet training was going to take a lot longer than normal, and at 28 months, it was probably time to at least introduce the concept of "going like a big girl". There is this Fisher-Price trainer that goes by the appellation "Royal Throne" (I know, I know), and not only does it exert a musical flourish upon sitting, it plays a "royal fanfare" when something, ah, happens. For a kid who can't see what's going on, I'm hoping that this will provide some sort of Pavlovian experience. That and the bag of chocolate chips for rewards. I'm sure there are plenty of people out there who would tell me this is the worst way possible to toilet train your child, but if I'm going to be tackling this for the next two or three years, I'd rather have something to chuckle at and refreshments.

On an impulse buy (Toys R Us is so good for those) I bought her a
"Henry the Octopus" stuffed figure from the Wiggles paraphenalia. It plays Henry's song that all three of us dig (mostly Gene and I) and has bendable tentacles that are excellent for chewing and gripping. At the moment, Bean and Henry are hopefully on their way to Nod.

Royal Throne potty. Stuffed octopus. We are so weird.