How’s Potty Training Going

Yesterday (Weds 14 Nov) started wonderfully: the minxes left for school in plenty of time; the sun was shining; it was a crisp, dry morning; Mini was happy to go to school slung on my back so I could hold her sisters’ hands; we walked back home the long way along the sea shore, spotting seals and strange sea-birds; I’d had a decent sleep with no minxes kicking me in the head; the fresh air was making me feel happy and ALIVE! and little Mini was a feeling chirpy and funny.  So, very unlike me, I wrote a happy little Facebook status about it…

Just as I hit ‘enter’, Mini the toddler with the Evil Comic Genius timing came creeping over demanding a Mummy-cuddle and a toenail trim.  I hauled her on my lap and gave her a kiss and a squeeze.  I asked her what the pooey smell was.  “Not me.  Not on my bum”, she said seriously.  I believed her, and trimmed her toenails in 30 seconds flat.  The honk lingered.

“No really, Mini, Mummy’s going to check your bum; that’s pongy!” I insisted.  And discovered that she’d silently unleashed 2 days worth of poo.  In those 60 seconds or less she’d managed to frag the carpet, my chair, a passing cat, all her clothes and all of mine.  The cat glared at us witheringly then slunk off to the back door where he waited, like a sulky teenager, to be let out to lick himself clean.  I carried Mini, dead-armed, out in front of me to the bath and stripped off my jeans and socks.  I discovered she’d also got my good cashmere jumper when I bent over to undress her and felt something warm and squishy smear against my bare leg…

All I want for Christmas. And birthdays. And anniversaries. In fact, sign me up for 10 lifetimes’ supply

It took me an hour to clean her, myself and the bathroom, and another half hour to sort out the clothes.  Happily, I discovered that Ariel stain remover is safe on wool.  And luckily the jumper is brown anyway…  It almost made up for my day going back downhill when i got my flu jag later.

So… now you know:

(a) why it’s not safe to ask how potty training is going in our house (it isn’t. But I’m not giving up this time!);

(b) why my home usually reeks of bleach.

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