Sunday morning Small Determined Girl decided she didn't want any more of those nasty Pull-Ups, and brought me some of her panties.
Taking this as a divine sign from God (the stray sunbeam framing her hand holding her new tiny whities didn't hurt, either - really, all we needed was a chorus singing in the background) I said something about being a Big Girl now* and she was all nods and smiles and 'I pee in potty. Okay?'
Absofrickinglutely okay! I grinned and snapped the tags off. "Sure, honey."
So yesterday, she remembered twice, (with five long, book-reciting false alarms) and forgot four times, including one where she went into the bathroom and pee'd on the floor in front of the toilet. Diapers, of course, (which she hated with a passion usually reserved for cough syrup and apple skin) for nap and bed, but I thought we were making progress. I barely managed to contain myself and not break out the champagne.**
Monday she didn't want anything to do with the potty, the panties, the big girl!, nothing. She brought me a Pull-Up. Her expression dared me to comment.
But, today! Sunshiney, glorious today? She woke me with a demand for big-girl underwear.
'No diaper, Mama. Wosey no diapah.'
I'm still smiling, and I don't care about the puddles I'm wiping up. She's trying.***
And that's pretty neat.
*and no, we weren't singing the Kandoo song.
**I'm on five straight years of diapers and counting. Which doesn't qualify me for a World Record or anything but feels like a fricking loooong ass time, anyway.
***And Cass didn't develop like this (it's like she woke up one morning and decided Must! Be! a Big Kid! all at once) but the fact that she's transitioning from a crib now pretty much dooms her to fail on this, doesn't it? Too many milestones at once?