So, Hubby has been trying to convince me to try and potty train Ham for quite some time (having read several articles on infants being able to be potty trained).
I knew the fact that babies in other countries do NOT use diapers and are able to 'go' in designated places outside their homes by the time they are 8-9 months old. Ham's 14 months old, so, why not.
Welp. She's doing it. Seriously. Since about two weeks ago, every time you put her on the potty, she strains a little, goes and then gets the biggest smile on her face. The cutest part? She'll sometimes reach over and tear off some toilet paper and rub her leg with it, then throw it behind her. SOOOO funny.
And, last week, she poopied on the potty for the first time. I just about fell over. She went #1 and I was about to get her off the potty and she clenched her fists and screeched a protest, so I was like, "OK, you're not done." Then she pushed a little and plop, plop. Too much information, I'm sure. I don't care. My 14-month-old can poop on the potty.
And, last week, she poopied on the potty for the first time. I just about fell over. She went #1 and I was about to get her off the potty and she clenched her fists and screeched a protest, so I was like, "OK, you're not done." Then she pushed a little and plop, plop. Too much information, I'm sure. I don't care. My 14-month-old can poop on the potty.
So now, she can wear training pants (not pull-ups, mind you...real cotton training pants...without that nasty rubber diaper cover) for hours at a time as long as we take her to the potty once every 30-60 minutes. Weird.
Here's a picture of her triumph...and a few just for fun in her undies.
Always, with the tongue. And holding Elmo for reassurance.
Not a care in the world.
Ok, yeah, so I'm wearing hand-me-down, BOYS, training pants from my 2nd cousin, Vinny. AND!?
If I didn't know her better, I'd say she was flaunting it.
OK, this is just TOO Grandmom McLeod. Hahahaha.
OK, this is just TOO Grandmom McLeod. Hahahaha.Now we're just waiting for her to break out in a Risky Business-type dance. I can see it now, Hubby and I are innocently eating breakfast and Ham comes skidding into the kitchen with socks and undies on, complete with plastic mixing spoon in hand, belting out Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.
She's a little more modest than that, it seems...when she knows she being photographed. Although, there is a reason I dubbed her "Ham":
