Demonstrate, Please

It's official. I've begun my second round of potty training. Ashley has been interested in the toilet for a few weeks now, but interest alone is not enough to get me to commit to this highly-involved process. These are my other stipulations:

She wants to.

She knows when to go.

She knows when not to go.

She recognizes where it all comes out.

(and, most importantly:)

She knows how to get it out.

Once these things are taken care of, I figure it's all about breaking the habit of going potty willy-nilly.

Last week as Ashley sat on the toilet--because Everett had just done so and she wanted to imitate him--I noticed she seemed to be confused as to how it all worked. I asked her if anything happened, and she said, "No. It not coming out, Mommy!" I asked her why it wasn't coming out, and she simply told me that her bottom was not working.

Well put, I think. Well put. I wasn't worried about potty training because she just barely turned two, so I was simply amused.

Fast forward to two days ago. Ashley actually did something while on the toilet. A novel approach, don't you think? Then later, she did it again. And again. At that point, I decided there was no turning back. We had reached the last magical item on my list: that Ashley knows how to go on purpose. The next most important item--that she wants to--was now very time-sensitive. I figured we needed to conquer this while the whole thing was a novelty.

The beautiful (beautiful, really?) thing about potty training is that I find myself doing things I never thought I'd do--namely, cheering about poop. Everett and Ashley, on the other hand, seem to feel that there is nothing unnatural about this approach.

Ashley will huddle next to the toilet, peering eagerly into the bowl as Everett relieves himself. "It's coming out! It's coming out!" she will exclaim, as excited as if she were waiting for chocolate chip cookies, not the smelly by-product of them.

Everett loves the cheering. He will sit up, tall as a king, and beam proudly at me as he shows his little sister what this potty thing is all about. In truth, I do not need him to demonstrate and have definitely never asked him to, but Ashley's encouragement is all the positive conditioning he needs (Pavlov would be proud). When it is Ashley's turn to use the toilet, Everett returns her original sentiments with keen interest and enthusiasm. What all of this means is that the three of us spend an awful long time sitting on the floor in the bathroom discussing bodily functions.

The other day when Everett and Ashley (and I) were just wrapping up another lengthy potty party, Joel poked his head in the bathroom to see what was going on.

"It stinks in here," he said, and swiftly shut the door.

Well, an odor to Joel is a victory to me. If the stink is where it is supposed to be, you can count me in on the party.