To Pee or Not to Pee

One of my potential goals this summer was to potty train Grace. She turned 3, a good age to start, I've been told. Aidan was 3 and a half, and the only reason I waited so "long" was due to the fact that I just had Grace and had heard way too many stories of relapses, resentment, spiteful peeing, and so on. I wanted none of that. Grace was about 6 months old when I started "training" my 3-and-a-half-year-old boy, and it took no longer than a week, with no accidents whatsoever. A snap.

I knew from the start that Grace would be more of a challenge. "Girls are typically easier to train than boys," I had read. Yeah, right. With Aidan, I could talk to him about it, figure it out together. With Grace, it's a different story. She's far more "babyish" (and I don't mean that in a bad way) than Aidan ever was; these kinds of conversations with her don't exist, really. She's just oh, so incredibly different and I would need a new tack for this endeavor. But what that might be, I had no idea.

I found a checklist online, a test of sorts to see if my girl is ready for the adventure:
Does she watch others do this with fascination and interest? No.
Does she talk about it or show an interest? No.
Is she interested in being a "big girl?" No.
Is she interested in panties rather than diapers? No.
Is she dry for longer periods during the day? No.
Does she tell you when she has gone in her diaper? No. (That's what noses are for)

Well, according to the "test," she's far from ready. I thought I'd try some visual connection for her, and purchased pull-ups, decorated with Cinderella and Belle and a bevy of beautiful Disney princess. She was absolutely delighted, hugging the package during our entire grocery trip yesterday. I talked to her about it, but really felt it was a situation of "lights are on but no one's home." I persevered.

After her nap, I thought it would be a perfect time to try. I had the afternoon in front of me, I prepared to set the timer at half hour intervals, and so on. I dragged out the purple potty seat from the attic (the kind that sit directly on the toilet) and deemed it her new "princess throne." She squealed with delight; I was hopeful. I sat her down; "Nothing!" she said. OK, no problem. I put on the pull-up and showed her how it worked. She loved it and refused to put her regular pants on. "I want to show Grandma!" she said, so we trekked upstairs.

Then came the final sign. She stopped in her tracks, stood by the door and ... just stood there. For a moment. I just looked at her, she looked at me. Then:

"Mommy! I have to go potty!"

A flurry of activity, I whisked her to the bathroom, pulled down her pants ... and smelled pee. She had peed first, THEN told me she had to go.

Well, it's a start.

Later that evening, the little nudie kids stood in the bathroom, waiting patiently while Daddy filled the tub. I had placed her, just moments before, on the toilet, recalling how we started training Aidan -- right before bathtime. "Nothing!" she said again. Now the nudesters stood together, a cute picture really, when suddenly:

"EEWWWWW!" from Aidan, looking at a puddle on the floor.

"Grace, what is that?" I asked. She smiled at me.

"Mommy, I have to go potty!"

I put the pull-ups in the closet.
She is so not ready.
Nor am I.