Toilets, Surrender!

There are some things in this world that are amazing or beautiful or heartwarming to see, and often they are the most rare or effervescent of things.

I mean, it's been years since I saw a two-year-old bottom in thick cotton training pants running around the house, and I'm delighted to say this wonderful creation has again returned to the Weibelwood.

My mother in law was SO right when she said, "Training girls is so much easier, dontcha think?" I remember thinking that getting the boys to stay dry was hands-down harder that labor. (Imagine this ad: I will birth your baby for you if you will toilet train my son.)

Riding high on the pride of having a dry toddler in the house, I was only slightly deflated to learn that just about every little friend of Zoe's has been trained since age 18 months. Is this a Wisconsin thing? Am I way behind on the parenting memos? Well, too bad. We're blissfully moving on to the wonderful world of public announcements in restaurants ("Mommy, I'na go PEE PEE!") and gushing praise for the glamour of pink panties ("Zoe, your panties are SOOOO pretty. Keep them DRY and pretty!")

And how did we motivate Zoe to take the leap into the world of big-girl-dom? We simply told her that YOU wear underpants. And Curious George wears underpants. And the man in the yellow hat wears underpants. And Mommy wears underpants. (etc. etc. etc.)