For the past 6 months or so, Alden has been making the slow migration from diapers to undies with a few minor setbacks, mostly due to the relative inattentiveness of her parents. There have been more than a few times that we head off for a walk, get halfway around the block, realize that we forgot to do a bathroom run first, and can’t find a toilet fast enough once the hopping and squirming starts.

At home we have a decent success rate, though we have the added challenge of our bathroom being beyond two doors, down a flight of rickety stairs in the unheated area of the barn just past the dreaded cat litter (if you ever need to straighten Alden out quickly, just threaten to put her in the cat litter). Because of this, we have a little potty that sits in the middle of the living room that does most of the dirty work. We’re a little concerned, though, that it’s become too easy to use the temporary upstairs potty. For instance, when we were down in the bathroom today, Alden said she wanted to use the potty seat. I thought, “Great! Progress!”

Yeah. Not so much. I gave her a talking to about what the seat was supposed to be for, but frankly, I don’t think my argument was very convincing. She’s pretty sure it looks better on her head than under her butt.

So much so that she wanted to wear it back upstairs to just hang out in. I had to draw the line. I mean, it’s alright to have the odd cardboard box or dustpan or steel wool lying around the living room as a toy, but a toilet seat is just too hard to inconspicuously sweep under the couch with your foot when company unexpectedly shows up. So I said, “Absolutely not,” and we went back upstairs.

She immediately grabbed a snack, walked over to her potty, and sulked.

I guess sometimes it’s just the most comforting place to be.