In Her Words
Gimme a P!
Let the potty training begin
If my life were ever featured on Sesame Street, the broadcast might end with the following service announcement:
“This episode has been brought to you by the letter P.”
All the large Parts that make up my little world these days seem to start with that illustrious letter.
I think the muscles on my hindquarters have gone Permanently numb from sitting on the floor of my tiny bathroom for hours on end, reading endless books to my 2-year-old in the hopes that he’ll deposit a lovely smelling Present in his Plastic training Potty.
Which calls to mind another P word.
Please try to Pee in the Potty today.
Please Put your toys away instead of banging them on the floor.
Please say “Please” if you want a cup of milk or a sliced banana.
Oh, and Please do not jump on the sofa anymore. A sofa that looked so much better before cat claws and baby spit-up depreciated its value by at least 100 years. Once upon a time, that sofa shined up like a new Penny. And so did I, before I spent my days trapped in a bathroom with a stubborn toddler.
There was a weekend not too long ago when I thought I would Plop from exhaustion.
The hours were slithering by, and I still hadn’t Put any makeup on or done anything with my hair. I hadn’t driven anywhere in my car or dressed in anything nice. I begged my husband to take us out to dinner somewhere, to cure me of my cabin fever.
The word Please fell on deaf ears.
“Why should we go out when we have all these leftovers?” he said with a shrug.
As I sat by the Potty later that day, hanging my head in defeat, I suddenly heard a cheery tinkling sound. Had Santa arrived at our house?
No. Pee had. I looked in the Potty and shouted with glee over the fact that Alex, my toddler, had Produced something wonderful.
I Praised him, Put him in his bath, cleaned him up and then tucked him into bed.
Something had gone right. And I sighed, thinking of another P word.
Jennifer Lubell is a health-care reporter in Washington, D.C., and mom to 2-year-old Alex.