it's on.

Potty vs. Mommy

{Round Two}

My second opponent is ready...

Usually p*#y tr@!n!^& is a bad word for me. 

{which is why I used symbols...}

anyway, I haven't thought about it at all,

until two or three times a day this precious girl will ASK ME

the most fulfilling question of her toddler comprehension.

"Mommy, Can I go Potty?" 

How it must feel to be two 

and suddenly have the mainframe understanding 

of your bodily functions put to the ultimate challenge.

I can't just go anymore?

and instead I must relieve myself into a glass chair

with an endless flow of water and

depths of storage under my house for matter so vial

as to make the very fibers of my mother quiver?

maybe she doesn't think quite that way.

But I try to think what it must be like to have something 

that seems so very natural to do 

and be told to do it a completely different way.

I think I should write a book:

The Twelve Month Guide to Very Frustrating and Unsuccessful Potty Training

So, if she's ready... so am I.

bring on the lysol and rubber boots.

we're potty training.

And just because...

 A day without Mitchell...

...is a day wasted.