Breakin' Out the Big Tote

This site still needs photos from the Bean's big Three at the Essex County Turtleback Zoo, so I've been holding off on posting for a few days even after the initial joy of Mr. Comcast Internet Repairman's visit.

However, given that camera-to-computer transfer remains a small technical feat for me, I'll just say that the early March weather was surprisingly welcoming last weekend, and Ella's WO/JC social circle all seemed to love the zoo, particularly lamas, monkeys, pig and Clydesdale horse. Warm pizza and cake in the pavilion made one and all content, and the Bean shared present-opening duties with friends in a manner that was very sedate and untoddlerlike. Maybe all children should be made to walk through a zoo before facing the double hit of chocolate cake-and-materialism-madness. The highlight for me, really, was seeing the Bean's friends all together, despite the fact that we have moved, and seeing how they are all growing up together, and how each alone could charm the pants off a crowd.

Meanwhile, the Bean and I have reached a new milestone in the potty training saga.

She announced this morning that she didn't want to wear a diaper to run errands, including the library. This was a step for her. Meanwhile, I looked at my options: limit errand time, though we'd been saving them up; bring change of clothes with the understanding that if she wet her pants in public we were likely taking several steps backwards in crucial potty-related-self-esteem; or, break out the big tote. Yes, just like the little boy in the "I Can Go Potty!" video (three stars) we placed the small plastic $7 Target potty (blue with a bear) in a large canvas tote bag and brought it with us.

Now, this is something I never imagined at 23: that I would find myself sitting on a cobblestone curb for Mommy and Me snacktime, and pulling out the blue-with-a-bear potty (clean, ahem) because the snacks were underneath it in the big tote. Anyone who might have driven by (yes, we are in the suburbs and were sitting by the edge of a parking lot) might have wondered about the potty on the grass. Good thing she didn't have to go just then, because we might have gotten fined, for pete's sake.

Oh, and while we're on the subject, why are preschools and IKEA the only places I've seen kid-sized toilets and/or sinks? I mean, if public toilets weren't huge and didn't flush like a cyclone, we might not have to carry a toilet with us. It's one of those small indignities that parents suffer, like mothers breastfeeding in the bathroom, or changing their children on dirty floors. I mean, harumph.