Finally A Potty Princess??? Probably Not

I had plenty of time this morning to answer an ever-growing question. As it turns out, the question finally ended up being "What can you accomplish in 45 minutes?" Sitting there, on the floor as I was, I had plenty of time to contemplate the answer. As the minutes flew by, I imagined I could have cooked an entire meal, cleaned the bathroom, changed the laundry, cut the front lawn, or even watched almost an entire Mike Rowe program. But what can one really accomplish in 45 minutes? Oh yes - waiting for Laura to go pee on the potty for the first time right after she gets up. Yes, that's what one can do with 45 minutes. Sit and wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. And wait some more. Of course you get to reread "The Potty Book for Girls" maaaaany times while you wait. And wait. And wait. And wait some more.

I realize that I have a lot of sitting and waiting ahead of me. Much more than I ever had with Matthew and Jonathan. Apparently boys are quicker to pick up the 'just get it over with because M&M's are waiting' concept. Laura seems to think she can vicariously taste the suckers so why pee in the potty when a diaper will be much more convenient. *sigh* So to circumvent her determination, I thought getting her up right away, before she managed to gel her diaper in to oblivion, would do the trick. After all, who doesn't want to hit the bathroom as soon as they get up??? Turns out, Laura wouldn't.

Yes, we sat there for 45 minutes. Forty-five long minutes. An entire Clifford episode and half of a George danced across our television screen before she jumped up, clapped her hands and exclaimed "I did it!!!" with tremendous enthusiasm. After sharing my joy with her, cleaning her up, pulling on what would soon become a dead pair of Dora pull ups, and beating the feeling back in to my leg, I dug up the bag of M&M's and rewarded her with a few. She was thrilled. She wanted more. I told her to she could have more, just as soon as she went pee pee again in the potty. Then I reminded her once again that if she peed in her pants, Dora's flowers would die. She nodded with the understanding that only three year olds have, as though she knew I was instilling in her the greatest gift even though she had no clue.

A few minutes later I returned to her with breakfast in hand. In that time she'd managed to strip herself of all but her precious Dora pants and her socks. Yes, it was going to be an interesting day. I was beginning to think that maybe the success just moments ago would give her the umpf she needed to carry the whole 'going on the potty' thing to a glorious conclusion. Yeah, I know. I dream a lot.

As she sat down on the chair, ready to dig in to her breakfast, I reminded her once again that it was her job to keep Dora's flowers alive by remembering to go pee pee on the potty. She shook her head with grave agreement. And then she looked down at Dora. Then looked up at me. Her face fell a bit and she said "I sowwy, Mommy. I sowwy." Indeed, Dora's flowers were no more. She'd managed, in just five short minutes, to let Dora's flowers die. Dead. Gone. Killed. Never to be seen again. Well, until the next pair of pull ups steps up to do its duty. Oh well. No biggie. Life goes on. She won't walk down the aisle in diapers, will she?

*sigh*

I'm sure the Lord thinks we won't ever 'get it' now and then, too. And yet he loves us anyway. Through thick and thin. Stupid stubborn attitudes and strong-willed episodes and all. He lovingly waits until we give in, realizing that going the extra mile, although not necessarily the easiest thing, really is better than dragging our heavily gelled buckets behind us all of the time. And he probably doesn't get exasperated while he waits either. Hmmmm... perhaps I need to work on that.

Thank you, Lord, for loving me through my stubborn periods. Help me to do the same with my less than cooperative daughter as together we overcome her love of the diaper. Remind me, hourly if necessary, that this valley will be only for a moment in time before she rises to the potty top having grown enough to let go of her diaper. Help her to realize that clutching what she perceives as a comfort object is really just a gel-filled weight that is keeping her down. And remind me about whatever weight I am hanging on to as well. Let us both grow from this experience. In Thy name, Amen.