It drives me over the top bonkers when I can’t find something. I gripe, get snarky and tear through the house unable to accomplish anything except trying to find the missing something. Tonight that something was a stack of six pairs of new potty training pants.
I’m thrilled to report that my youngest daughter, who will be two-years-old in October, is taking great interest in using her little wooden potty. Her motivator is the excitement she has for dumping whatever goes into her faux potty, into the real toilet. Essentially she loves the idea of playing with her pee, plus sitting side-by-side her big sisters (or mom) and doing just as they do.
A friend of mine, who was the third of four kids, once told me that she potty trained herself. Her mom discovered it when she opened the bathroom door and found her toddler on the big toilet going about her business. I can totally see how this could happen!
It’s almost true to what is happening here, except I discovered it for the first time when I heard the sound of the pee being dumped into the commode. Now I just hope nothing too obscure gets flushed down with it – so far so good.
Back to the lost underwear, which I bought at a cloth diaper warehouse of a large manufacturer that just happens to be based locally. Being the independent toddler that she is, I handed them to her and told her to go show them to her sister. She ran off with them proudly, saying,” Look sister, panties.”
A few hours later I was on a rampage to find the missing underwear. We had a friend over during the time when they went missing. Play suitcases were being unpacked, repacked and make believe adventures were being had. So really, there was no telling what far away land those “panties” went to.
Dinner passed, one beer got drank, many curse words flew through my head as I feared it would be like the one brand new StrideRite shoe that went forever missing before the pair ever had a chance to be worn.
Every cabinet had been opened and all the toy bins had been rummaged thru. Next I called the mom of the three-year-old friend who was here to ask the little gal if she had any idea what my little munchkin did with her new “panties.” Then it was a deep breath, sigh, and a report of no good news.
Sometimes, in the rare situation when the new panty wearing gal’s clothes actually get taken out of the laundry basket and put away properly in her armoire, she does like taking ownership of her things in there.
Feeling defeated, that was the last place I could think to look.
Low and behold, the kid who is practically potty training herself put her own underwear away, in her closet, just where they should have belonged.
Case solved.
