Wednesday, August 5, 2009

The Champ

This morning when we woke up I convinced my daughter to come pee with me. She wears a diaper at night and usually wakes up dry but often refuses to go to pee first thing and then at some point during breakfast she just goes surreptitiously in her diaper. But I figure if I can get her in the habit of going first thing, then we'll be able to get her out of diapers altogether. Oh happy day.

The background to this story is that for the last six months my son has been going on and on about being the winner. When he finishes dinner first, hes' the winner. He wants to get in the car first so he can be the winner. He wants to get in the house first, get his bowl of cereal first, brush his teeth first. You get the idea. And his happiest moment is proclaiming this small victory. I win. It gets old. Though I think he's picked up that I'm not so much interested in his little competitions. He's started saying stuff like, it doesn't matter who eats fastest as long as we eat all of our vegetables so we can be strong and win at other things.

Where was I? Yes, the bathroom with my daughter. We both sit down on our respective potties and then there's that brief moment of silence and anticipation before anything comes out and we're both smiling at each other, when a faint tinkling sound is heard from the little potty. That's when she whispers to me, I win.


Everything's Rosie said...

I love it! That's my girl.