The Daily Fuss

Smashed Fruit (and Veggies) Revisited

I've previously mentioned my love affair with baby and toddler fruit purees here and here and I thought it best to post my annual update.

We still love these innovatively-packaged wonders. And, we still have a giant wooden salad serving bowl filled with several different brands in our favorite combinations. It's stocked at all times.

It's worth mentioning that in the two years since I wrote the first post on what we affectionately refer to as "Mish Mash" no matter the brand, there are so many more options - more veggies - more combos - more fun!

We still hit the Plum Organics and Happy Baby pretty hard. We've also added Ella's Kitchen and some Earth's Best into the rotation. All have more stages and more vegetable combinations than ever before.

We do a lot of smoothies too with cow, soy, coconut and almond milk. Mairin needs a few alternatives because she's a bit sensitive to dairy all of the sudden. Fresh food is our first option, but we also blend in a mish mash when we don't have enough fruit or veggies in the house. Plus, it's winter in the midwest and selection of good fresh food can be limited.

To the companies who make these wonderful on-the-go treats.

Keep it up!

And, thank you!

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Bleeping Haters

Oh boy. Apparently, Modern Family is eroding what's left of the Leave-It-to-Beaverishness in America.

I should have known better than to watch that show. Prudish 18 year-olds are all the rage these days, anyway.

Admittedly, I would be a much better parent if I just pretended certain words don't exist and joined the no cussing club.

This is just so silly.

FUCK.

It's a word. It's part of our lexicon. I've studied language and literature extensively prior to studying law. I'm smart and funny and use the f-word from time to time. Okay. Let's be honest - several times each day.

I truly appreciate language (structurally, contextually, historically and culturally). I also have an affection for the 1st amendment as it relates to creativity.

I'm thirty-five years old and have two small children. I work and watch this show with a glass of wine when it's time to relax. Modern Family is a smart show. It's hilarious and far more family-centric than the commercials bookending segments of children's shows airing on ABC (Viagra etc.).

Once McKay Hatch has lived some real life, I'm sure he will look back and see what a useless and ill-placed crusade this is.

To be clear, let's remember one more thing - this is just my fucking opinion.

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Multitasking

So, I'm feeding Mairin. Since she's almost one, she only requires a top-off around dinner time and then some evening nursing. On this particular night, I'm also still working - tap, tap, tapping away at my laptop.

Leighton is quiet for a moment or two (which is certainly suspicious) and so I look up and whip my head around.

Woosh. Woosh.

Not to worry. There she is on her little, green PBK couch with a baby doll stuffed up her Dorothy dress, shimmering her fingers about. ("Shimmering" is the best way to describe it. "Fluttering" would be close too.)

"Are you feeding your baby?", I asked.

"Yes.", she replied with confidence. "But I also need my laptop."

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Date With Leighton

Leighton needed some mommy time. Okay, fine. Maybe it's the other way around, but no matter. Lei happily accepted my offer to take her to her very first movie in the "thee-ay-ter".

The Muppets.

It's playing at Northbrook, so we decided that Ryan and Mairin would mill around the mall while we went to the movies. We would regroup afterwords for dinner at California Pizza Kitchen.

Sidebar: I love CPK. The food is consistent. Prices are reasonable. There are plenty of healthy options for kids and grownups and they serve alcohol. Perfect. Did I mention that they serve alcohol?

Leighton carefully readied herself for our date in a way that let me know she understood just how important the outing was for me. I haven't spent a large chunk of time with just Lei for a while now and was looking forward to some bonding.

My peanut picked out some textured tights, pink corduroy skirt and a white top with tulle at the collar - a good look for a two-and-a-half year-old to be sure.

We sang and danced to Let's Go To the Movies from Annie while we dressed.

Lei then took it several steps further and accessorized herself with sparkly shoes, a hair bow clip, a necklace and one of my purses from I couldn't even tell you when.

I think "embellishment" is one of her favorite words. In fact, I'm certain of this.

As we walked through the mall, Lei turned heads with her confident little gait. "What a girly girl." "She's so cute." "Look at those shoes."

She was oblivious to the attention, which pleased me immensely. She was only going about her business, after all.

We left Mairin and daddy at the entrance to the theater, picked up our tickets and headed straight for the snack counters. Out of all the candy, crap and junk food she could have chosen, Leighton settled on fruit snacks.

God bless her.

So I talked her into ordering a white cherry ICEE to wash them down. She later admitted that it was a smart decision.

She was mildly irritated by the previews, but loved the Toy Story short film and Muppets feature. She bounced around during the musical numbers and clapped at the end.

We saw a two-hour kids version of The Nutcracker last month and she got antsy half-way through. But for these Muppets, she made a little camp in her seat, ate her snacks and gingerly sipped her ICEE - taking it in and out of the cupholder a thousand intriguing times.

For the undisputed littlest ticketholder in the thee-ay-ter, she behaved perfectly.

We had a lovely dinner, fish tacos for mom, bbq chicken salad for dad, banana and avocado for Mairin and grilled chicken and broccoli for Leighton. She cleaned her plate and we made our way home.

We stopped at Walgreens on the way home to get more kid toothpaste (mint is too "spicy") and Lei said she couldn't wait to brush her teeth. She went straight upstairs and did just that when we arrived home. And put on her PJs and went to sleep.

Thank you my sweet little Leighton for the absolute best date EVER.

The Littlest Bride

Regarding gender roles, the whole little-girl-dresses-up-as-a-bride thing just hits you right over the head doesn't it?

We really aren't the kind of parents who encourage extreme girliness. We certainly don't discourage it either. Still, we expose the girls to a wide range of experiences and some things seem to stick more than others.

I've mentioned the unstoppable force of Disney, and it's obvious that we haven't tried too hard to hide it from the girls. They can figure out on her own exactly which princesses are most lame and why.  Lei appreciates Buzz and Woody, but identifies the most with Jessie. She really doesn't care much for animals and prefers pink over ever other color. That's just how she is.

Lei likes garlic chicken and chili and tilapia and pomegranate and broccoli. She tries a variety of foods and some just keep reappearing on her requested menu.

I'll admit this bride stunt tripped me up a bit. I was putting up a few final holiday decorations and I overheard Leighton rummaging through items in the family room. She thoughfully chose a swaddle blanket and said to herself, "This will be my veil." Then, she picked a faux flower bouquets out of a vase on the side table and said, "My lovely bride bouquet." 

She asked me to secure the blanket dress and blanket veil, so I cinched her get-up with a few binder clips and she was "bride walking" down an imaginary aisle before I could fire up my camera flash.

 
 
 
 
We weren't sure whether to laugh or cry. We didn't know what to say. So, we simply said, "Congratulations!"

The little bride reports that next time she gets married, she will hold her flowers down a bit so we can see her face. Good to know.

Big Themes

I saw The Lion King for the first time my freshman year of college. The only thing I remember thinking about the movie at the time was how adult Simba and Nala rolled around in the grass a wee bit too sexily for a cartoon. I also recall appreciating the voical stylings of Jeremy Irons and James Earl Jones. And wait ... isn't that Jonathan Taylor Thomas?

I recently saw this movie again as a parent. This time around, I was struck by the number of times the words "kill" "die" and "dead" pop up in this flick. I was so not ready to explain the sinister plot culminating in Mufasa's demise to a two year-old.

I have to say, she handled the whole Circle of Life thing pretty well. She had some questions about Mufasa being "injured" and "sleeping" and then questioned his absence form the remainder of the movie. But, by the time she saw Simba and Nala's lion cub, she was fine. She told me she loved the movie. And, when I asked her if she was still sad about Mufasa and scared of Scar she said, "Hakuna Matata, Mom. It means 'no worries'".

Excuse Me?

A toddler can turn a ten-minute car ride into an hour.

A toddler who needs to stop to pee in crowded downtown Chicago on a friday night on the way to your brother-in-law's rehearsal dinner can turn that ride into a circus sideshow.

Ryan, his mom, Leighton, Mairin and I packed into the minivan for the brief trip from Navy Pier to Maggiano's. As soon as the last seat-belt clicked, Lei informed us that she had to pee. I said, "We will be there in five minutes. You can pee at the restaurant.

Traffic was horrendous and we made a wrong turn. A series of wrong turns and one-way streets led us a bit north. The whole time, Leighton was calmly repeating that she needed a rest stop.

Mairin started crying.

Lei's volume increased. "I have to go potty. I have to go potty." In a sing-songy cadence.

The radio was on. (Don't ask me why).

My mother-in-law dug frantically for an address.

My husband began sweating.

I focused on breathing in my nose and out of my mouth. I was feeling car sick.

Finally, it became obvious that Lei felt she needed more attention. "I HAVE TO PEE DAMMIT. DAMMIT I HAVE TO PEE. DAMMIT. DAMMIT. DAMMIT."

Whoa.

We stopped at a restaurant and Grandma whisked Lei out of her seat. We were parked around the corner from the entrance (another one-way situation) so we couldn't readily see that this particular restaurant was closed.

Grandma came back twelve minutes later, sweating, carrying Lei in heels, back aching because the toddler insisted on being carried the five block trek to find a suitable potty and Grandma obliged.

Ryan's brother was married in July (feel free to go back and reread that knowing it was 85 degrees outside). Until yesterday, I had forgotten about that car ride and how we spent the remainder of it trying not to laugh at Leighton's proper use of such a naughty word.

Yesterday afternoon, Lei was goofing around on a chair and knocked over my external hard drive. As it crashed to the floor I yelled "Dammit Leighton". She happily skipped around the house yelling "Dammit Leighton" for the next five minutes.

I no longer have to guess as to where she learned that word.

What the Fuss? Monkey Business

Last weekend, Grandma and Grandpa brought over the game "Five Little Monkeys" (from the creators of this children's book) and it was a hit. 

The game targets ages three and up. As we unpacked the pieces, I didn't believe my wee lass could follow so many rules. However, Lei, who just turned two and-a-half, had a blast following every last monkey-related directive.

Each player (up to four) has plastic colored monkeys. There is a big, plastic, pop up bed that sits in the middle of a board with spaces that direct players to do one of four pretend things when they land on them - take a bath, put on pjs, brush teeth, and go to sleep. 

Players take turns spining  to move around the board, act out the picture on the space they've landed on, place a monkey on the bed and then push the button on the spring activated bed. No one knows when it's going to pop.

Monkeys that fall off the bed remain off. Monkeys that simply tip over, but stay on the bed, are stood up again. The game continues until someone has four monkeys on the bed AND has acted out each of the four pretend scenes.

Leighton had no issues with patience.

 
Mairin, on the other hand, has yet to grasp the concept of "taking turns".

 
WE LOVE THIS GAME! What a great way to introduce small children to counting and strategy while developing fine motor skills.

We bought Five Little Monkeys for $20 at Toys R Us. It would make a fantastic holiday present for the little kid on your list.

Big Girl Shoes

She begged me to let her try on my shoes.

I said, "no". And she asked, "why?" And I told her, "I don't want you to ruin them before I even get to wear them."

And she asked, "why?"

I didn't have the time to explain that I felt I deserved to wear them for the first time - damage free.

And, I didn't have the heart to tell her that with those sparkly Badgley Mischkas comes much more responsibility than she could possibly understand.

I would have to tell her that those shoes come with a job ... nay ... a career attached to them.

I would say that I must drive to and from meetings in the city, in my minivan on conference calls while pumping and doing my makeup so I can wear those shoes.

I would explain how desperately I try to wrap up my work work day by 5:30 so I can send the nanny home and be truly present while getting the little ones fed and bathed, so daddy can get some quality time in before putting Lei to bed.

Those shoes come with a tremendous amount of concern over bumps, bruises, choking, cavities, sunburns and bug bites and excessive fear of the day my kids will be old enough to drive a car.

Those shoes come with mortgages and retirement accounts and a roof that needs fixing and a garage that needs rebuilding and condo tenants in need of a brand new dishwasher because they somehow managed to break the one we have.

Those shoes ignore my husband sometimes and that isn't fair. 

I suppose I could have couched my denial of her request in terms that she'd somewhat understand - such as, "Those shoes are worth a thousand poopy diaper changes and hundreds of 2 a.m. feedings." But it wouldn't have mattered. She really really wanted to try them on.

Admittedly, tied to those shoes is a strong desire to be more fashionable than I actually am at this phase of my mommy life. The shoes do help that cause. I swear.

I still need to lose the baby weight I packed on with Mairin and those five inch heels make me look two pounds thinner than my four inch heels. Somehow, five minus four equals two in this instance.

I need those shoes.

And they need me.

And I promise you, those are the ridiculous things that went through my mind when she begged and pleaded and whined until I let her try them on.

She struggled a few smiling, shuffling steps on her tippy toes in those shoes and then gingerly stepped out.

She assured me, "These are too hard mama. These are your shoes."

I smiled and nodded and said "no shit" to myself. Someday I will explain the whole thing to her.

Someday.

New Do

No matter how silly the wisps looked, it was painful for me to trim them. Leighton didn't have much hair to speak of until she was more than one year-old, so the thought of trimming Little Sis's locks at six months seemed absurd.

I'm glad I did it. She looks lovely - slightly more mature than I'd like - but Gerbery and downy as a baby should be.

And, Leighton feels that because Mairin is old enough for haircuts, she may also be keen on playing dress up, sporting costumes and any accessories part and parcel to a trip to fantasy land.

However, it should be noted that Mairin only gets to play with the things Leighton ignores or decidedly does not care for.

Take wigs for example. We know Lei is not a huge fan of the tickly factor inherent in wig wearing. It's a good thing Mairin doesn't mind one little bit.

 
I was laughing so hard, I could barely take this picture. She looks like one of those dolls that grown women dress and bathe and shop for and pretend to feed and take to the store in a buggy. A baby should not have this much hair.

I smiled and congratulated Mairin on her indoctrination into dress play and told her she looked just like baby Rapunzel.

The second that compliment left my lips, Leighton tugged the wig right off of her sister's head and knocked her over.

Lei didn't want to wear the wig, but she didn't want Mairin to have it anymore either. So, she stuffed it in the couch cushions while she sat through her time out.

It seems that Mairin has subconsciously spent the first six months of her life inventorying all things her sister doesn't like or won't do and pledging to like and do every last one of those things.

Brilliant. This little game will certainly become even more interesting, entertaining and heartbreaking over the years. By the time Mairin starts walking and talking Leighton will have met her match.

Drama

By the time dinner had ended, I wasn't quite sure which name to use to address my child. Dorothy? Are you there? Where are you Dorothy? Annie? Rapunzel? Let down your hair.

Kit Kittredge? Is that you? Are you going to eat your carrots, Kit? Can Toto have them? Daddy Warbucks made salmon. Yummy? Are you waiting for Flynn Rider to give you a kiss? Are you going to save him?

It may be a jumbled mashup of fairy tales to you, but in Leighton's mind, she is the star of a very complicated, detailed, two year-old fantasy built on the cornerstone of the unstoppable force of Disney.

She's incredibly dramatic. I love it.

I bought the Rapunzel wig a few months ago as a "poop-on-the-potty" present. (See? I just can't escape it - even in print.) She loved it for five seconds and then lost her shit completely because the long synthetic strands tickled her arms and then got caught on her hands, in basically the same fashion as each of the Tangled Rapunzel dolls we bought for her.

 
Crying ensued and I hung the wig up for a spell. Until she asked for it last night. Right after we finished watching the first half of Kit Kittredge: An American Girl while playing with Barbies, babies and wearing a Sleeping Beauty nightgown with her ruby slippers.

Ryan is putting Princess Annie Rapunzel Kittredge to bed right now. She was pretending to sleep for a thousand years anyway, so we convinced her that it would be much more comfortable to await her true love's first kiss in the comfort of her own cozy little bed.

Luckily, she agreed.

Polite Conversation

As a mother of a five month-old and a two year-old, I am definitely in a place in my life where many of my daily conversations revolve around boobs and poop.

I'm sure one day, Ryan and I will be sitting on the couch enjoying a glass of wine, and one of us will say, "Wow. We haven't talked about boobs and poop in such a long time. I really miss having little kids."

I'm not saying that I don't enjoy having wee ones. I absolutely do. I'm simply commenting on the frequency with which I say those words - "boobs" and "poop" on a daily basis. It's stunning really.

The whole "boobs" talk has everything to do with breastfeeding. They're either sore or exploding or Leighton just jumped on my lap and kneed me in one of them or they don't fit in my shirt or I need to pump while driving my minivan to the city for a meeting while taking a conference call and putting on my makeup. Kidding, of course.

The "boobs" talk will terminate when Mairin turns one year old. I will cry like a baby on that day and I can't really go there mentally, so right now I refuse to take the "boobs" talk for granted. Mairin eats like a champ and has since the day she was born. Many moms and babies struggle with breastfeeding and we don't. So yay for small victories and yay for boobs.

As for the "poop" talk, Leighton has been completely and totally potty trained for a while now. Still, most of the time, she tells us what she's doing on the potty when she's about to do it, is doing it or has already done it.

Lei has no idea that the running commentary on her business is not polite conversation. It's so normal for her to announce to everyone in the room, "I have to poop" - mostly because we've been making such a big deal out of it for some time now. And, because we have no less than eleven books on the subject. When she first started using the potty, we would cheer and clap and call grandmas and grandpas and tell anyone who would listen "Did you know Leighton poops on the potty?"

So yes, of course she believes that our neighbors and friends want to hear about it. They do, or they should, because the fact that my twenty-seven month-old poops on the potty every day without fail is AMAZING.

I am a proud mama. I celebrate the simplest things and tiniest victories - several of which involve poop and boobs today.

The Ride Home From School: Complimentary Education

At the end of Leighton's school day, she's just roused from her nap. She's generally seated at the snack table, enjoying fruit, crackers and precious toddler banter. Her classmates are all roughly two years-old, but Lei is the only one in the room who can carry on an actual conversation complete with humor and gusto.

By the time I arrive to pick her up, her mouth has not had the chance to release all of the new information her brain has stored up since waking that morning.

She's generally quiet for the first half of the eight minute ride home, so I use this time to gently extract information about her day. "Did you paint today? Did you read books today? Did you do puzzles? Did you sing?"

I know the answers to these questions are likely affirmative with elaborations about what she painted or read or otherwise learned. New words and perspectives take a bit more time to surface and Lei surprises me daily with the proper use of a phrase she's never before uttered - not to my knowledge anyway.

The car was quiet for a moment and Iseized the opportunity to bring up a recurring subject - NOT killing Little Sis with love, malice or anything in between. I told her that Little Sis was sleepy all morning because she's growing and she needs extra gentle handling for that very reason.

Lei told me that she would be extra sweet to Mairin today because "I'm a nice girl."

I added, "You're also intelligent and kind."

"And I'm tough," she interrupted.

I continued with "You're also thoughtful, funny, and beautiful."

She nodded while mulling over my choice of adjectives and finally said, "I appreciate it."

Latte Batte

I weaned Leighton from her bedtime baba in one protest-filled evening last August,  in much the same way I recently helped her break  her pacifier habit. 

She's been able to drink from a straw since eight months. This little trick came in handy when I forgot to pack an extra bottle or was out and about for a longer stretch than anticipated. And so, we replaced the bedtime baba with warm milk in a straw cup to be consumed prior to brushing teeth and heading up to bed.

This beverage started as straight whole milk, but somewhere along the line, we began adding a splash of Very Vanilla Silk to add some interest. On the rare occasion we were out of Silk, I substituted with hazelnut coffee creamer. It's nuts, I know. This sophisticated version of the nighttime baba was Leighton's evening latte - or batte (bah-tay) as it came to be called.

To add to the ceremoniousness of the whole thing, I would make a cup of hazelnut decaf for myself half hazelnut creamerand Lei and I would sit on two bottom stairs and drink our latte/batte while recounting the events of the day. Both Lei and I looked forward to our latte/batte ritual.

Notice I said "looked" as in past tense. There's a reason. Let me explain.

Leading up to the potty training fiasco, Leighton and I discussed the difference between "Big Girls" and babies and listed many of the activities in which a big girl may or may not engage.

A big girl articulates her needs using her words. Babies cry and babble.

A big girl dresses and feeds herself. Babies need lots of help doing both.

A big girl drinks from a cup. Babas are for babies.

A big girl sleeps in a bed. Preferably her own. Babies sleep in cribs.

A big girl doesn't need a nukka. Pacifiers are strictly for babies with no teeth.

Most obviously to suit the purpose at hand, a big girl wears underpants. Babies wear diapers.

Come on Leighton, you're a big sister now. It's time to start acting like one.

Leighton communicates better than some adults. She dresses herself and buckles her shoes. She feeds herself and drinks from a cup. She moved from a crib to a toddler bed without flinching and although it was painful at first, and she's likely holding a bit of a grudge, she lets her sister sleep in her old crib without a fuss. 

Lei reluctantly ditched her baba but made the best of the batte substitution. By the time she was forced to forfeit her nukka, the big girl sacrifices and big-sister talk began to seriously piss her off. Once we added the underpants pressure, Lei reached her breaking point.

All of this "big girl" talk intesified the difference between baby Lei and big girl Lei and the way she sees herself. The flat out refusal to potty train is my toddler taking a temporary stand on that issue and putting the breaks on growing up. However, she added a few big girl objectives of her own and met them at once with nothing more than self-imposed restriction.

Leighton stopped asking to be carried up and down stairs. She quit asking for her silky ribbon blankets (we have at least fifteen that my mom made) in bed, in the car and even at nap time. And, perhaps to punish me by depriving me of one of my favorite Leighton/mom rituals, she just gave up the batte. Bummer for mama.

I'm still hoping she changes her mind.

Turning Two Part II: Baby Pants

This is the face of a child who just decided that she is NOT going to use the potty and is telling me all about it. I took a series of these shots - some of her stomping, some with her lying on the floor like a noodle and some of her spitting in her tent to get her point across.

I'm sure she'll find it as amusing as I do ... someday.

Leighton has used the potty periodically since the age of one - mostly upon waking and before going to bed. She would lean toward obstinate when we would discuss wearing big girl pants full-time, so we backed off when it seemed we pushed too much.

In the days leading up to her second birthday, we talked about how we'd wake up on that birthday, say goodbye to diapers and wear fabulous underpants forever more.

"Deal," she said.

Lei's actual birthday was the tuesday after her big party. I was exhausted and it was the second day of the week-long spring break that nearly killed me. I had two kids by myself, all day, every day, for the first time.

Sidebar: Some people are cut out for this job and are just fine, all by themselves, with multiple kids. However, I have a two year-old that has had constant stimulation, nannies, school, grandmas, grandpas, cousins, aunties and the like, so that Ryan and I would have a fresh bundle of attention to bestow upon her when we finished our work days. Leighton is super fun, but she's also the proverbial handful.

Sidebar 2: Leighton is obsessed with babies and likewise, her sister. She wants to hold her, carry her, rock her, squeeze her cheeks, cover her face with blankets and pull her upright by her limbs. You can't leave the two alone for a minute or two - even to pee.

Sidebar 3: If I have yet to earn your sympathy, please let me remind you of my exhausting party prep for sunday and the acute sinus infection I was suffering from.

Despite the foregoing, I learned never to change things up on my child at the last second. I was determined to proceed with potty training. Fresh from the dryer, we pulled out twelve pairs of training pants (the cute Hannahs with patterns on them), several pair of Babylegs and a waterproof FuzziBunz cloth for nap time.

We talked about who wears diapers and who doesn't and how equally empowering and comfy it is to be diaper-free. The first potty of the day was a success, as usual. It happened on the big potty upstairs on the little seat that nests inside of the bigger seat. Easy peasy.

For the rest of the day, we set up camp (literally - there was a tent involved) in the family room with our Fisher Price singing potty and Baby Bjorn Little Potty for backup. I mentally noted that I would ask Lei to try the potty after 25 minutes or so and go from there. The very first time I asked if she had to go, she told me she neither wanted to use the potty nor would she use it today. Then she shot me a look as if to say, please don't make me try this or I will punish you.

When I reminded her of the deal we'd made and the birthday and underpants and babylegs and empowerment of the whole situation, she looked me dead in the face and said, "Tomorrow. I'll go on the potty tomorrow."

I stood firm. And, she sat firm. She sat on the potty on and off for three and a half hours without peeing. She can hold it like no one I've ever met. When she did get up, she walked around with her legs half-crossed, in obvious discomfort.

I didn't know how else to get the ball rolling, so I did what I always do with her when locked in a desperate parent-child power struggle. I cry.

I told her, "Mama really wants you to be a comfortable, happy and independent little girl. And, it makes me sad that you won't do it because you're mad at me."

She cupped my right cheek with her little hand, cocked her head to the side, furrowed her brown and said "Don't cry, Mama. It's going to be okay." And then her potty sang and sang and sang.

Unfortunately, that's the last time I heard that tune. She intentionally peed her pants for the rest of the day. The day before, my mom put her in the corner for ten seconds until she apologized for being too rough with Little Sis. She very quickly claimed the power of that corner because every time she peed, she'd watch it run down her leg to the carpet, say "Sorry Mama" and go stand in the corner, as if to say, I don't much care for your rules or requests. Rather than honor them, I prefer to stand in the corner or throw a tantrum.

At one point, I was so frustrated, I told her, "I don't care if you wear baby pants for the rest of your life. You can go to college in them and get married in them for all I care."  The ridiculum I can spew forth when frustrated by a toddler is amazing.

I taped a giant size 5 on her little butt and threw in the towel. I put the potties on the other side of the baby gate so she could see them, but made it clear that they were off limits. At that moment, I decided that I would make her beg to use the potty before school let out for the summer.

She wondered a few times that day "Where is the potty? Can I use the big potty." Even for the few days after, I turned her down. I reminded her that it's an all-or-nothing decision at this point. I told her, "I'm sure you'll let me know when you're ready. Deal?"

We shook on it. "Deal," she agreed.