Jessica has made great strides in the potty training department. At home, she's a regular visitor to that little green, yellow and white plastic Throne Of Promise. She's taken to announcing to us that she has to go on a regular basis, even when she doesn't have to go, because she likes her little perch so much. She's no longer even getting horses for peeing successfully; she's just doing it to show off. In fact today my wife actually ventured briefly out of the house with her clad in fresh Dora tighty-whiteys, and it was a successful trip with no accidents. I can see it now...some day...leaving the house with nary a diaper bag in sight. Oh, the money saved...the destruction to the environment reduced...
Of course, that financial windfall we'll see when we stop buying diapers will most surely be tapered by the fact that my daughter announced we are getting her a puppy when she's completely trained. Uh huh. Yeah kid, that will happen. Not that I have anything against dogs. I love dogs. I want a dog. Some of my best friends are dogs. But first I want a brief respite from cleaning up after small creatures for a while.
Meanwhile, Jessica enjoys announcing, "I farted" every time she, well, every time she farts. I can't imagine where she got that term from. Wouldn't have been me. I mean really. Considering that the other day she told her mother, "mommy, I love you best. I love daddy too, but he's stinky and farts a lot," it would imply that she must have gotten the term from someone else.
But of course, her mother is horrified by this. "Can't you use another term, like I passed gas?" she questions. Jessica's older sister suggested a few herself. "I pooted! My tushie burped!"
One whisper in Jessica's ear by her classless, cromagnun father was all it took. "I cut the cheese!!!" Jessica announced proudly.
I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight.
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