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The crime scene

So, just as directed, Saturday morning we got Jolie out of bed and joyously proclaimed, "NO DIAPERS TODAY! JOLIE GETS TO WEAR UNDERWEAR!"

We said this as if we were announcing Candy For All Meals Day or Super Fun Carnival Day. Except we were referring to the onset of Potty Pain of Unspeakable Proportions. Slight difference.

We had her go to the potty and put her in her first pair of big-girl Dora underwear. (Yes, they sell such things.)

Approximately 30 minutes later, she peed on the hardwood floor of our living room. She was thoughtful and announced "Pee Pee!" after a respectable puddle had formed beneath her. This is a cake, I thought to myself. Got this one in the bag.

The thing about taking her to the bathroom every 45 minutes is 45 MINUTES IS NOT A LONG TIME. Especially considering the whole rigmarole of the potty ritual takes a good 10 minutes at its most efficient. I thought it akin to breastfeeding every 2 hours or so in the beginning, by the time you are done, there's not much turn around time before it's that time again. And you start to dread it.

Our first major obstacle happened just an hour later.  It was time for her to go again and we were waiting for her toddler gymnastics class to start and took her to the restroom there. It was a kid-sized toilet but she absolutely refused to get on. When I tried to place her there, she started crying violently. Diaper went on. Underwear off. Total time in underwear: less than 2 hours.

We realized we needed to get more ammunition, more supplies, regroup and reassess.

 
Up Next: The Potty Diaries, Ch 2: Guerrilla Warfare

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