It's Raining Pee

Nine pairs of panties? Check. A week of complete dedication? Check. Toddler willingness? Check. I was armed and ready to tackle the potty training monster for the third and final time. Looking back at my eager and fearless attitude, only a few days ago, I can't help but smile at that young, naive girl and her dreams. Okay, maybe just naive. Has it really been so long that I have forgotten the frustrations and setbacks of potty training?? Apparently so.

My ammo pack…

One critical item I neglected to factor in was our still-not-completely-housebroken puppy. Paris is much better than she was at "going" outside. But her little bladder is so teeny that she has to "go" all the freaking time. Enter Jossilyn into that picture. She wants to use the potty chair. She desires to do the right thing. However, her thimble-sized bladder she apparently inherited from her mother is not always able to comply with Jossilyn's wish to "hold it".

Therefore, I suddenly find myself side-stepping puddles at every turn. There are puddles on the carpet, puddles on the wood, puddles on the tile, puddles on the couch(!)… It's so out of control, I don't know who's nose to rub in what! How does one determine the puddle culprit? Is there a method? If Jossilyn had a tail, it would be neatly tucked betwixt her legs, just as Paris' is. They both cower and run from me when my nice and dry foot suddenly submerges is a warm, freshly made pool. Are they conspiring against me? I'm beginning to wonder.


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