First off, sorry about last night. I left my phone over at the kids' house following a role-playing game night. By the time I figured it out, I was beyond tired and not about to turn around and go back for it. My photos were on the phone, as is the app I use to write. Instead of stressing about it, I went to bed and watched a couple rug cleaning videos until I was too sleepy to keep my eyes open.
Starting today, we are going to have Valerie for the bulk of the time for the next week. Long days today, tomorrow, and Sunday, then overnights for much of next week. It is almost go time for baby sibling. We are concurrently absolutely ready for this to start, and not prepared at all for the radical changes about to happen. But while she is here, we have decided it is time to further introduce the concept of The Potty. We have conversations about it, and she can announce when she is performing the act. But so far she is afraid of the little seat that can be set on the real toilet. So we brought out a training potty they had at their house, waiting for her to be ready, and while at Target, we got a second one for here. We may end up swapping them, since Val picked out one with her beloved Elmo on it. I showed her that it's out of the box and in place in the bathroom, but we haven't tried yet. That's going to happen in the next few days. Send good vibes, as it were.
Val has entered that stage where the slightest thing sets her off on a crying jag. Everyone is familiar with the concept: Kid wants peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but when you put it on the plate, the side with jelly is up and peanut butter is down... and kid screams and cries because you made it wrong. That sort of thing. Today she was offered mixed nuts as a snack, and I got them from the counter right next to the peanut M&Ms (which we have been calling "sugar.") She asked for sugar, and I calmly said no, I have nuts for you. She threw down her toy and cried as if I had turned into a spooky Disney villain, and wouldn't take any snacks from any of us. And when she was trying to nap, Saoirse walked into the room, looked at the bed, and turned and walked out. Val melted down and cried, "Go outside!" She repeated this over and over for half an hour, even though the dog hadn't returned a single time. After maybe 45 minutes, she fell asleep, but wow, was that an ordeal.
When I thought about what I would write for the blog that never happened yesterday, I was thinking of what would pair with the purchase of the new training potty. For a week, I and about 12 thousand other Twitter users have been checking in every few hours for updates on a three (now four) week old kitten. He had an unfortunate birth, and lost the lower half of one of his back legs. This was already interesting enough for many of us to tune in. But then he absolutely refused to poop for days. Imagine thousands of people checking their phones hourly, waiting to see whether this tiny, three-legged kitten had eliminated waste properly yet. We heard of trips to the vet for enemas, laxatives mixed in kitten formula, and manual stimulation. The Twitter universe asked the important question: "has Bitty shitted yet?" And readers, just as I decided I'd mention it, he did. All over the vet. Life can go on now.
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