A little dry spell

Little Miss Mei sits on her potty this morning and does what a kid is supposed to do on the potty.
Holy freakin' cow, it's about time.

I first set up her little personal potty a couple months ago, and she took to it like a fish to water. She'd sit, no complaints, sometimes do her business. After a couple weeks, she asks -- yes, ASKS -- twice in one day to sit on her little throne, and she pees as though all she'd ever done her whole life was rest her bottom on a bowl instead of burning a hole in the family's checking account as she and her twin brother added a mile high pile of Pampers to the landfill.

I call my husband at work. I call my mother. I call my sister. I do a happy dance in the middle of the kitchen. Talk about easy.

Dzzzzzzt! Whoa! The next day she's all, "I don't want to sit on the potty."

WTF? (In my head.)

"I don't want to go potty," she says, in a tone that's clearly the same as if she has said, "I don't want to eat big-ass hairy spiders, you idiot."

Um, ok. How about if I give you M&Ms? No?

You can wear the Dora panties ... you know, Dora doesn't want you to pee on her ...

"No!"

You're going to pee pee and get all yucky. Don't you want to go on the potty?

"No."

And I drop it, because I have other important matters to deal with, and isn't it supposed to be bad to pressure toddlers to potty train? (Sure, mom, you tell yourself that.)

This morning, as if the past several weeks have never happened, Miss Mei announces, "I sit on the potty now."

Good mom that I am, I yawn, "Alrighty," reluctantly remove my fingers from my mug of coffee and go to watch as she sets her little rear where it needs to go.  "Pee pee falling in the potty." A wave of joy washes over me and I imagine no more wet panties for me to wash in the sink. I can't wait.

"Awesome," I shout and do the happy dance again for me and her.
(Roll your eyes, you childless/child-free people -- but to a parent it's like winning the lottery and finding out the prize was a billion dollars plus a lifetime supply of the chocolate of your choice plus your own personal doctor who never put his/her hand on the door before finishing the line "Do you have any questions?" plus -- you get the idea.)

But I won't cancel the diaper subscription just yet.