Abs starts school in 3 weeks. 3 weeks.

It’s pre-school, and she needs to be potty trained. Or, let me clarify, she can wear a pull-up/diaper and I will get a phone call if she needs to be changed. My morning alone time with M will be over in a poop filled moment.

I started potty-training yesterday. At a friend’s suggestion, I bought, “Potty training in less than a Day.” She swore it worked. The author swears it works. ‘After 1 day, 100% of children were trained.’ Wow…can’t beat those stats. Can’t believe them either, but they sure sound great. I could let slide that he suggested you decide on a word for pee and poop and one of his examples was ‘defecation.’ Could you really see someone using that word with a child?

I started reading the book. The ideas made a lot of sense. Block off a 4 hour period of time with no TV, phone or other distractions. Buy a doll that pees. Have your child teach the doll to pee. All good ideas. We woke up yesterday ready to go. Doll? Check. Lots of underwear? Check. Elmo Potty that congratulates her in Spanish? Check.

The first time she tried? Nothing but a big fart. But she was proud of that sound! Of course, so was I! We clicked Elmo and he said something that had to be good (Does anyone have this potty? How do I switch to English?) She got up, I gave her another drink. A half-hour later, she ran in on her own and sat down in her underwear and peed. I call this success! So did Elmo. I think.

The day went pretty smooth. She asked a few times to use the potty, she had a few accidents.

We woke up today and started again. She has gone a few times on her own. No accidents…until…she decided to tell me she needed to go and then shit on the floor next to the potty. But, she told me. This time, I’m certain Elmo said something disapproving, but I told him to back off.

Last night, Abs had another ‘episode.’

It was bedtime. Neither of the girls wanted to go to bed, though it was later than usual. The same routine…we put them in bed. Abs gets up and runs around. M laughs. Abs continues to run and yell. Then the inevitable cry of, “Mom, Abby’s on my bed!” Abs laughs. Repeat. Over and over and over.

We try to be consistent. One of us walks upstairs, picks her up, puts her back in bed. We leave the room. She gets up and yells, cries, climbs into M’s bed.

Joe (who never loses his cool) has had enough. He picked her up and placed her in the changing table until she calmed down.

“Daddy, let me down! No touch me!”

“Do you want to get down?”

“Yes. Put me DOWN!

“If I put you down, are you going to go to bed?”

“No!”

“Ok, you’ll stay here.”

And he waited. I took M into the playroom to snuggle while Abs screamed like a banshee, (“I want to snuggle with Mommy!” – because mommy is the weak link) for what felt like hours (it was for at least a full hour…she was hoarse from the yelling.) Joe came into get M and tried to make light of it.

“M, your sister sure is crazy, isn’t she? Should we trade her for a puppy?”

“No, Daddy. I like Abs.”

“How about for 2 puppies?”

“No, Daddy. Well…how about 10 puppies?”

We brought M back to bed, and they were settling in. Before we left, M asked,

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Peanut.”

“What about the 10 puppies?”

The girls are starting to get pretty clever. They are their own little gang. They stick together. They undermine what I say. They don’t listen. All with love, of course.

Today, we were having a snack. M got her normal strawberry squeeze tube yogurt. Abs, allergic to dairy, had one option – Trader Joe’s Soy Yogurt, Raspberry. Of course, hearing that M was going to eat strawberry yogurt, Abs decided that she NEEEEEEDED strawberry. She’s not yet 3, she doesn’t quite know the difference between a picture of a strawberry and that of a raspberry. So, I gave her the one yogurt in the fridge and called it strawberry.

Cue M. “Mooooooom. That doesn’t look like strawberry to me. That’s purple. And not a strawberry.”

“Ok, M. Abs likes raspberry yogurt, but wants the same thing as you. It’s ok for me to tell her it’s strawberry. We don’t need to say any more to her. Let’s just let her enjoy it.”

“Ok.”

I left the room. As I was walking out, I heard M whisper, “Abs, I have a secret for you. That’s not strawberry yogurt. Mommy gave you raspberry. It isn’t strawberry like you wanted.”

“Moooooommy. I no like rass-boo-weee” and of course, she decided not to finish the remaining half.

While I appreciate M’s commitment to honesty and telling the truth, this really throws a wrench into the gears. Now I have, “Why yes, Abs, it IS going to hurt”, “No, our kitty did NOT go to a farm”, and other related white lies that she is sure to correct for me.