Five million little tchotchke prizes from the Dollar Store, check.
(Specifically, pink princess underwear, check.)
(Same for superheroes.)
Training pants just in case even though the “Queen of Potty training” says this is a big no?, check.
Foam toilet seats, check.
Fear of crap everywhere, checked.
Dread of pee everywhere, checked.
Sanity, lost long ago.
Three day potty training bootcamp in place set to start tomorrow, check.
Plastic lining your dad wanted to get for the couches that I told him they don’t sell anymore but he said sure they do the Italians must get them from somewhere, not gonna happen.
Wine for the end of these days, check–though due to the fact that I drank all the tequila there is to be drunk in the world Saturday night (yup, sorry, Cancun), I don’t want to look at anything alcoholic again until, well, maybe tomorrow.
Here we go, you guys, marching blindly into another adventure…
As I read on a Snapple bottle once, who always wins in the age-old battle of the snake vs. the mongoose? The mongoose always wins.
Who will win this battle of nature vs. nurture, in this case nurture being a three-day intensive of me following you around the house saying tell Mommy, do you have to go?
I’ll write again on Friday, when the verdict will be in…