Adventures in potty training.

It's 4:50 a.m. Maternal instinct rouses me from sleep exactly six seconds before I hear a tiny sing-song voice call, "Mahhhhhhmmy. MaAAAhhhhhhmmmy."

I gently stumbling into your room on my way to the bathroom for myself. In a concerned whisper:

"Yes, honey. What is it?"
"I fink I need to go."
"Ok!"

I scoop you up and whisk you to the bathroom lit by the nightlight. I stand you in front of the toilet, gently pull your pull-up and jammie pants to your knees and quietly plop you on the Elmo potty seat. I kneel in front of you, and we wait a couple seconds. You smile, reach for the toilet paper and sweetly say,

"I'm just pretending to go potty."

Bewildered but accepting, we pull up the pull-up and jammie pants, return to your room, and I lay you back in your crib, saying, "It's still nigh-night time," as I cover you up with blankie.

You snuggle up and are out in 60 seconds.

I am in bed awake until 6:38 a.m. That's when I finally fall back to sleep. Next thing I know, your dad wakes me up for the day. I look at the clock. 6:45 a.m.