Some day, my daughter will surely hate me for posting her potty habits on a public forum that’s read in such far-flung places as Havana, Yerevan and Sammamish, but I have to say it anyway: My Little Girl is Potty Trained! That’s right, just one week shy of her 2nd birthday, she whipped off the diaper and decided it was time to be a big girl. After a successful trip to the potty, we celebrated by dancing around the living room and eating a chocolate chip. She asked for another chip, and I explained that she’d have to produce on the potty first. So she did it again, and once again we danced and ate a chip. When she did it again: a dance and a chip. And so on, until her little eyes lit up with the realization: You mean every time I do something in the potty, I get a chocolate chip?
And just like that, she was potty-able. The only problem is, after the 200th consecutive time of doing the potty dance around the living room, it gets kind of hard to feign excitement over what is, really, just a bucket of pee. I’m trying to hold up my end of the bargain, though, and we’re dancing up a storm. Meanwhile, she’s been dry for days. Which is especially fabulous news considering the cost of diapers in Beijing.
So there you have it. My daughter is brilliant. Next up: medical school.