For Both of You

This blog is in honor of both people who read it. Tanna and someone who got carried away clicking on random blogs...

Potty training is an adventure. I've yet to hear two similar stories. Some kids learn quick. Some kids learn slow. Some kids take great pride in both the size and number of turdlets dropped into the fishbowl. I'm proud of my two children. The eldest, Elizabeth, drops some bombs that are filled with hot dogs, cheese and pride. Ethan watches the bathroom door tirelessly as he waits for an unsuspecting user to leave the door open. Then, he kind of crawls (arms crawl, one leg crawls, one leg trying two walk with a knee that refuses to touch the ground) to the toilet where his life's mission is to at the least splash in the tinted water that smells like coffee. With some luck, he can turd bob...

This weekend, Elizabeth successfully pooped in the toilet. She does a pretty good job of finding the toilet. Unless we're outside. All bets are off. She went golfing with me and peed on the green. This weekend, she dropped her pants in the middle of the yard, tripped over them and peed sitting in the grass. Awesome.

This time she made it. She pushed. She pooped. I was proud. She was happy.

"Look dad! Dadda, babae (baby), Eh-an (Ethan)."

First glance, I was confused. I only saw two turds, not three.

Found it.

Three turds. All named according to size. I always wondered what an obese 1 year old would look like if he was a turd...

Elizabeth wasn't done yet. She ran to the living room, grabbed her mom and showed her the masterpiece. Tanna was disgusted. I was thrilled. I have handed the turd show and tell torch to my daughter. (Unless I have a really big one, but that's what cell phone cameras and facebook are for.)