So this morning, after cleaning up a broken bowl and a large amount of milk off the floor, I was peeling Addy out of her breakfast-covered pajamas to put her in the bathtub. It crossed my mind that maybe while we were in the bathroom I could try sitting her on the potty, just to see if she had any idea what it was for, if it scared her, or what. Kind of get a gauge of where we are as far as potty-training goes (I wildly entertain hopes of having her potty-trained this summer, but am not holding my breath or anything.) As I knelt there contemplating all this, Adelay laughed, patted her round naked belly, and peed down her leg onto the freshly laundered bathroom rug.
There was already a load of urine-soaked sheets, mattress cover, blankets, and pajamas in the wash. I might also add that as I was placing the pee soaked blankets in the washer, Adelay had clung to my leg, weeping giant crocodile tears and sobbing, "Bwenkie! Bwenkie!" But that's the cruel and heartless mother I am. I just live to snatch wet and rank-smelling blankets out of my child's arms and then laugh at her heartbreak.
But seriously. Not a great start to the day. Good thing I had a big bag of peanut butter cups in the cupboard. Sometimes that's the ace up my sleeve that keeps me going, you know? That thin line of peanut butter and chocolate is sometimes the brink of sanity.
Also: I see that Vintage All Stars is winning by a landslide. Keep those votes coming, people!