I’m not going to tell you that Lucy is potty trained. That’s a bold statement. I’m not willing to go there. (I don’t want to jinx anything.) But I will tell you this: there are no longer Pull-Ups in our house and there’s a pink froggy potty that’s seen a whole lot of action lately. Additionally, underpants emblazoned with the likes of Rainbow Dash and Dora have been pulled from their packaging and bribes have been paid. (The going rate for going #1? Three M&M’s and a celebration dance. Going #2? A veritable shower of M&M’s, a celebration dance and parade, a pack of gum and $5. (I wish I was kidding.))
I know there is someone out there making judgements about all of this, about how I didn’t do something right. To that someone I say, NO KIDDING. The amount of brain power I’ve committed to this issue is so great, I am certain my IQ will increase by at least ten points once it’s behind us. Not that I’m saying it’s behind us. I’m not saying that. I’m too busy knocking on wood to say anything like that. What I am saying is this: Lucy went to piano class today without any variety of disposable undergarment on her person and the bench stayed dry, my friends. My relief is surpassed only by her pride. We feel equal amounts of joy. And I’m pretty sure we can live happily ever after now.