How to Make Sure Your Child is Never Potty Trained

So I have this really spanky Baby Bjorn potty chair for Eliza:



It has this little insert that comes out so you can properly clean said potty chair after it has been used. Eliza in the past has enjoyed using this insert as a cup during shower time (rest assured she had never peed in it prior to using it as a cup):




Recently Eliza has made a few half-hearted attempts to pee in the potty. Tonight Eliza decided that the pink part would look very nice as a hat:





Notice the look of abject terror as Miss Eliza realizes that her potty hat was indeed stuck on her head.

Yup, that thing was stuck and stuck good. After twenty minutes of trying to extricate Eliza's head I was starting to think I'd either have to call the fire department for the Jaws of Life or amputate one of her ears.

Luckliy the ears and potty chair survived the incident. I am however fairly convinced that Eliza will never sit on this thing for fear of what it might do to her hind end!

Bag of Bones

I was really torn between titling this post "Bag of Bones" or "People are Asses." Since I figured the word "ass" in the header might offend some people of delicate sensibilities right off the bat, I went with the former title.

So yesterday I was in Talbots returning a pair of slacks that were too big (you'll see the irony of this in a minute). While I was checking out, Eliza decided to decorate the front of the counter with her "Winn- Pooh" stickers. After apologizing for the toddler graffiti, two of the clerks came over to help me get the stickers off at which point they got a close look at Eliza. They both proceeded to exclaim "Oh my god, what a bag of bones she is" and "she looks like a stick figure." This was followed by a handful of other equally unsolicited comments on how skinny Eliza is. Although unusual for me, I walked out without saying anything. And stewed for the next day and a half.

Then I went back.

I found the two clerks and asked if they remembered me and they didn't (no one ever remembers the brown haired girls). But when I asked if they remembered the "bag of bones" their memories perked right up! More comments on Eliza's skinniness ensued. I asked them if they had any kids and as luck would have it they both did. So I asked if their kids were perfect. This was met with very, very blank stares. They asked what I meant and I said "well are your kids fat, bald, do they have flat heads, big noses, crooked teeth, anything along those lines?" They both conceded to having "chubby kids" and one admitted to her son having a bit of a flat head. I do believe they thought they were on a game show at this point since they were all smiles. Then I asked "so you you would be OK with me calling your child "tub of lard" or "flounder head?" No laughter at all. I asked if they thought my comments were cute or funny? No ma'am. They thought I was rude and abrasive. My point exactly! But when I asked them if they thought their comments about Little Miss Bag of Bones were abrasive, they actually insisted that calling a skinny kid names wasn't nearly as bad as calling a fat kid names because they "meant well" and "it's not really a criticism when you point out that someone is skinny." Huh? I mentioned that the bag of bones comment is not too welcome when your kid is skinny because of a feeding disorder, then left them to ponder whether they will increase sales at Talbots if they continue to critique the size of the customers' kids.

So I guess the lesson is that it is OK for someone to comment if your child is noticeably underweight but let's just not go there if someone's child is noticeably overweight. Go figure.

And to clarify:

This is a Bag of Bones:



This is Eliza:

These Boots Are Made For Walking

Have I mentioned to you that this kid can walk? And walk. And walk. And walk ...

Eliza has decided that her beloved Bugaboo stroller which has been our primary means of transport throughout the city should be retired. What she once thought of as her Rolls Royce ride is now an instrument of torture. Eliza simply will not get into the thing and would prefer to hoof it on her own everywhere we go.



Now I know few people people believe me when I tell them Eliza can easily walk a mile without breaking a sweat, so I have enlisted Mapquest to prove my point.

Twice weekly trek to the hospital for therapy: .97 miles each way.

Twice weekly trek to gym class: .65 miles each way

Daily trip to either of her favorite playgrounds: .40 miles each way.

Adding all this up, just walking to and from these three destinations each week totals 10.48 miles per week.

This does not count the running, climbing and jumping in the park, gym class or therapy. Nor does it include the various short walks to the grocery, the pharmacy, the parking garage, etc.

So can anyone tell me where a toddler who lives on about 700 calories a day finds the energy for all of this?