My niece, Freaky Button Baby, is now completely potty-trained. She is not yet 2. She even used the public toilets at Sea World — unafraid — for freak’s sake!
Even I won’t use those unless truly desperate. I mean, I’M the girl who once held it in for FOUR DAYS on a backpacking trip because I was too dim to figure out how to go in the wild without, ah, going in my jeans and I really didn’t want to go in my jeans.
And, OKAY, I did explode and wet my pants on Day 5, which by very definition means I went in my jeans.
And, OKAY, I DID try to pass off the spreading stain on my butt and thighs as “creekwalking” even though I was NOT wet anyplace near my feet, which are generally what I use for walking of any kind.
And, OKAY, I never really did get the hang of the whole “lean against the tree” pee thing, so my family relentlessly mocked me for the rest of the trip until I threatened to creekwalk on them AND their nice, dry clothes.
And you know what?
They needed that. They needed that fear.
All puffed up with pee-pride they were.
But, seriously, slap me on some Pampers before a public restroom is a viable option.
Anyway ….
Seems Button Baby is obsessed with a pair of jeans I bought her. The jeans were in the laundry basket the other day, needing to be washed, when Button’s mom was dressing her.
Putting on the little top. Putting on the little pants. Or TRYING to.
Button kicked and thrashed about, crying, “No! NO!!” She ran off, pantsless now, to the basket where she dug around until she retrieved the jeans. Bounding back to mom with chubby fist thrust out, she said, emphatically:
“Tee Tee jeans! Tee Tee Jeans!! TEE TEE JEANS!!”
Jeez, kid. Keep your pants on.
Cute story, Tracey. Remind me to never take you camping 😉
My middle child, my youngest daughter (4) is a clothes fanatic. From before she could talk or walk. She’s always had a thing for certain colors and certain outfits. This is all natural. It was definitely not inspired by either of us and her older sister could care less about what she’s wearing.
Case in point. We were going through an Old Navy outlet store. My middle child was younger than 6 months. We were walking around the store and our girl starts BAWLING because we weren’t stopping to look at the clothes she wanted to look at. We had to leave it was so bad.
I had one of those. My second son. Absolutely determined to rule the world right from birth. His first clear phrase was, ‘Do it SELF!’. He too was completely potty-trained by the time he was two… he taught himself to read at three and was happily reading the Narnia books to himself by the time he was four. I learned early on to respect his judgement, give him good, logical reasons if I needed him to do something (or not do something) and give him as much independence as he needed.
Wow, have you ever shared THAT story before? Because I think I would have remembered that one.
My eldest daughter was like that – and her own daughter is just like her: ah, sweet retribution!
I love the stories about Piper and Button Baby – they are precious.
ASMom – I think we’d ALL remember that one! Tracey, your candor is priceless.
*looking at floor embarrassed to share…* Um, *nervous clearing of throat* I was, uh, potty-trained at nine months… Is that weird?
Yeah, so… Anyway… My niece is obsessed with my purse… So… I got THAT goin’ for me… Which is nice…
Sue — “Do it SELF!” That is so funny.
Cullen — Your daughter will be a fashion designer. She will help Rhonetta to look less like a ho.
ASM — Noooo. Haven’t shared THAT one before. I can still see my jeans — wet over my whole butt down to the thighs. I mean, this was four days’ worth of it. And my parents’ faces as I tried to pass it off as creekwalking. I actually thought they would buy it. Turns out, they were smarter that that. Whaddya know?
Sal — You’re kind. Thank you.
WG — You’re not embarrassed to share — you’ve got you the dreaded Pee-Pride!
Besides, I’m sorry, I don’t buy it. Evidence. Photos. Affidavits. Eyewitnesses. Please supply these in your next comment.
And — if it’s true? YES, it’s weird. We love you, but it’s weird. You were the original Freaky Baby.
Or your parents were EXTREMELY, ah, proactive towards this goal.
Yes, that’s it: please consult your pee trainers for proof of this assertion.
And for answers, frankly. You should have been allowed to pee your pants freely for many more months than THAT!
It’s in my baby book. I was just innocently browsing through… trah-la-lah… Here’s baby WG at birth in October… Here’s pictures of our camper at the lake… Old uncle Dan and Aunt Jane… Hmm-Hmm-hmm… Dee-de-dee…
ENTRY:
“July”, [of the closest July that could possibly fall after my birth the previous October], “Well, little WG is potty-trained. Good for us. Now we have 2 girls and no more diaper duty…” And THERE’S a picture of nine-month-old WG, grinning.
I pulled my Mom aside. “Are you *sure* about this?” She’s been known to flake on a detail or five. “Oh, yes. That’s right…”
Chuckling, I went to my Dad. Surely she’s off by a year, right? “Dad, it says in my baby book that I was potty-trained at NINE MONTHS. Did Mom have a brain fart or what?”
“No,” he raised his eyebrows like he STILL couldn’t believe it, “you *were* potty-trained. I remember. Everything Big Sister did, you wanted to do, too. She went on the potty, so you HAD to go on the potty.” He grinned an evil grin. “You were really anal about it.”
Er, well, sorry for doubting you, WG!
“Really anal about it” Hahaha.
And, really, GOOD for you, I say! Clearly, I had potty training issues for a WHILE.
I have since resolved all of them, I’m happy to say.
Including the creek walking? 😉
Well, honestly, I haven’t had occasion to “go” in the woods for a while ….
But I’m gonna say “YES, of COURSE!”