August 5, 2008
Double portrait: gluteus cirrus and gluteus cumulus.
After all that, these cloud-bedecked tushies woke up happily. No indications of sleeplessness were present, except perhaps the psychological scars borne by their mother.
The tushie on the left: not so much to say, except goodness it's cute. And it's up in the air a lot more as its owner gets off her belly for conformity crawling a little more often these days.
The tushie on the right is a principal character in a potty training campaign. Without further ado, the noteverstill perspective (thus far) on the best and worst of potty training.
The best: that tushie is ever-present, and frequently naked, and even when not all-the-way naked, it's much closer to naked. And that means it's pinchable and tickleable and if you're not really into kids, fine, now you think I'm crazy but maybe you shouldn't be reading here anyway? And if you're into kids - you know about the joy of pinching a perfect little tushie. Because it (and she) is just so cute and she (not it) squeals and squirms every time. Yesterday I picked the girls up at daycare and found, to my surprise, that E's bum was swathed just in unders and a diaper cover -- but no diaper. She'd been using the potty so well all day that they kept her out of diapers all day, and not a single accident. To display my excitement, I lifted up her dress to verify this information, patted her not-padded bottom, and had to give just a little pinch. Because oh goodness, when I lifted her dress I could see the tushie itself and it is, quite simply, Irresistible.
The worst: so then E was so excited that she had gone all day without a diaper, she jumped up and down to tell me, and started giggling. And then the very worst thing that could happen happened: she had her first accident. Translation: she wet herself. MAMA!! I GOT MY PEE-PEES ON MY UNDERS!! And right in the middle of the classroom she stripped out of her dress, unders and diaper cover. The worst part of potty training is clutching your daughter's urine-soaked clothing in your bare hand. Followed closely by washing out her urine-filled shoes in a sink tall enough for a two-year-old. Followed closely again by crushing her spirit and informing her that although the wetting wasn't a bad thing, and she's doing great, it's still 40 minutes until we get home and she needs to put a diaper on for the car ride. This parenting gig: not for the faint of heart, or the sensitive of skin.