I don't really know what I am musing on these days. It's more like an irregular stream of consciousness thing...it seems to be working.


May 2008
April 2008
March 2008
February 2008
January 2008
December 2007
November 2007
October 2007
September 2007
August 2007
July 2007
June 2007
May 2007
April 2007
March 2007
February 2007
January 2007
December 2006
November 2006
October 2006
September 2006
August 2006
July 2006
June 2006
May 2006
April 2006
March 2006
February 2006
January 2006
December 2005
November 2005
October 2005
September 2005
August 2005
July 2005
June 2005
May 2005
April 2005
March 2005
February 2005
January 2005
December 2004
October 2004
September 2004
August 2004
July 2004
June 2004
May 2004
April 2004
March 2004
February 2004
January 2004
December 2003
November 2003
September 2003
August 2003
July 2003
June 2003
May 2003
April 2003
March 2003
February 2003
January 2003
December 2002
November 2002
October 2002
September 2002
August 2002
July 2002

-- HOME --

-- RSS 1.0 --

Powered by Movable Type
« Toddling For Real? | Main | Oh, To Be on Broadway »

w July 28, 2004

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.

by at July 28, 2004 2:53 PM | TrackBack