My little Hope E.'s antics as she makes her way through her “Terrible Twos” year are sure to test this grandma's patience. We are trying to potty-train Hope. At Me Ma's house she will only sit on the potty chair fully clothed – while at home, she has actually used it, twice.
I tell her, “If you are a big girl, like Jessica, and go potty in the potty chair, we will have a party!”
Nope, that doesn't work.
“You can wear pretty “Big Girl” panties if you go potty in the potty-chair.”
Are you kidding me?
Lately, she has started telling me when she has gone poo in her diaper. Yesterday, I was trying to throw some supper together, when I looked over at Hope. She was standing if front of the TV, one hand jammed down into her diaper. Her other hand held a big brown clump.
“Nooo, Hope, ewww!” I exclaimed in horror. I rushed her to the bathroom to wash her hands, before she could touch anything. Next stop, the bedroom to change one nasty diaper and check her clothes for contamination. “Why do you do that, Hope? That is soo nasty!” I rambled on, totally grossed out.
I must say, Hope comes by this trait honestly. I remember when her father was a little boy, just a bit younger than Hope is now. I heard him giggling one day, when he was suppose to be napping. Entering his room, I was assaulted by a sight and smell I remember like it was yesterday! Brian was brown, head to toe. Poop was smeared from one end of the crib to the other. The walls, within an arms reach, as well.
After eating her supper last night, Hope was taken into the bedroom, where Christy changed her, once again, shapoopied diaper. Caught it before any damage could be done this time. Yes!
A few minutes later, I heard Hope yelling, “Help, Me Ma, mess!” Entering the bedroom, I found the now shredded diaper, strewn across the bedroom floor – courtesy of the dog.
I will be so glad when Hope is finally potty-trained!
I'll throw you a party, Hope, and buy you a dozen balloons. Pretty please, please, please, please, please use the potty chair Hope.