The Pill And The Poopinator

Dear Laney,

This morning, we drove into town to run some errands, and our first stop was the library. You met another 1.5 year old there named Mavis, and the two of you chased each other around the Children's Section. Well, to be more accurate, she ran from you while you chased her with a Spongebob Squarepants Halloween book that she obviously did not want to read. Mavis had all of the standard one-year-old attributes, with the fun addition of CONSTANT SCREECHING.

When it came time to check out, we went to the scanning machine, where we experienced a difference of opinion. I wanted to scan our books, and you wanted to scan the entire innards of my wallet. Full-scale Laney breakdown ensued.

It was at that moment that I decided we were going to have one of those days when you're a complete pill. I told your Dad once that you were being a pill, and he looked at me like I was using a phony made-up Southern word, like when I correctly identify our shopping cart as "the buggy." So this afternoon, I looked it up in the dictionary and one of the accepted definitions of "pill" is "something unpleasant that must be endured."

Exactly, Mr. Webster. Exactly.

Then, it was on to Target, where - in a snit over God knows what - you pitched your entire sippy cup of milk on the floor of the electronics section, and I ended up mopping it up with the extra set of clothes in your diaper bag. While I picked out some clearance gift wrap, you threw out everything else I had already put in the cart. I wondered aloud, "What if I just beat you with this wrapping paper?" Not that I would ever ever ever in a million years do it, but sometimes just floating the option makes me feel better. When I told this story to Peg Peg later this afternoon, she said, "Just don't let anybody SEE you do it."

Our most important purchase at Target (and we know it was important, because when we checked out the first time, we forgot it was on the bottom shelf of the buggy, and we had to get BACK in line to pay for it) was this potty chair:

It looks like where the crew of the USS Enterprise would tinkle, so I've taken to calling it the Poopinator 3000. It even comes with its own toilet paper holder, so you know it was designed by someone who has never met a toddler.

Using some of that "leading by example" stuff he learned in the Navy, your Dad took it for a spin, which you didn't appreciate.

We don't expect much to come from this purchase any time soon, but it'll be good to have it on hand. One thing we know for sure, you'll look better sitting on it than the sample kid in the illustration on the side of the box:

Your dad says the poor kid looks like John Candy.

Love,

Mom