Playing the Odds

Jemma has been semi-interested in The Potty for months now. (I assume this stems from her desire to be like Annie in all possible ways because I surely do not want to "do" potty training again just yet. I'm still worn out from the last time.) Once or twice a day, she heads into the bathroom and says, "Paahtaaaay!" and I say, "Really? Why don't you just go in your diaper?" and she says, "Chair! Chair!" and tries to put the potty-training seat on the toilet by herself. So I stop what I'm doing, put the damn seat on, and take off her pants and diaper.

She sits proudly, happily on the seat for between 5 and 10 seconds. Nothing ever happens, not ever, not in at least 100 times of her sitting on the seat. She smiles, yells, "All done! Wipe!" and unrolls half the roll of toilet paper and tries to shove it down the potty seat hole. I am no longer amused by any of this, but I feel like I must indulge her.

So the other night, I got her naked and put her in the tub. "Paahtaaay!" She looked at me expectantly. I looked at her, all wet and slippery and thought for one second of scooping her out and putting her on the toilet. But I didn't believe her because, again, she's never, ever actually done anything while she's on there.

"Potty?" I asked. "Really?"

"Paaahtaaay."

"Just go in the tub then," I said, calling her bluff. And instantly, she squatted in the water and turned it yellow.