Skip to main content

Anal-retentive

We are in the throws of potty-training. The rabbit is succedding nicely -- however she has been prone, a bit, to 'holding it in" -- at least on the poop side of things. Unsure what to do after three days of abstaining, I called my sister in a panic. She recommended taking one of the rabbit's thermometers, rubbing some Vaseline on it and, yes, trying to loosen things up. The rabbit needless to say was not thrilled. And while it did the trick, she has understandably developed a horror of the "tamometer."

We are again back to square one. Three days out and nada. This morning as we stood in line at the post office, she howled out, "I don't WANT to go poop! I don't WANT to go pee! I don't want a tamometer in my bootie!"

Nice. Nothing like giving your neighborhood ammunition for the "bad mommy" looks.

Comments

Kate B. said…
LOL. Poor rabbit. But my real sympathies lie with you, MM. Potty training is torture, even when they're willing - did I tell you the Small(er) One has just decided to potty train herself at the grand old age of 18 months? It sounds great but there is the major drawback of having to stand next to her while she's perched on the loo - she won't use the potty- for up to 20 minutes at a time so that she won't fall off. She has grand ambitions that she is unable to fulfill on her own...
1:11 am
Kathryn Thompson said…
Oh, the joys. I've been working on this sort of thing off and on (okay, more off) for about 8 months. Hopefully they'll be potty trained in time for junior high. That could get really embarassing.
8:12 am
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Grim Reaper

Firstborn is obsessed with death. It started with the odd comment, such as; "Mummy, what happens when you die?" OK, I thought, I was expecting this at some point, what a cute little curious brain she has. So I trotted out all the cosy Heaven stuff and left out all the things that could worry her, such as worms and bones and holes in the ground. This went down pretty well, although somehow Firstborn made the jump from my view of Heaven (filled with love, joy, always warm, never rains, has a huge discount designer shoe outlet and I never have to pay my Visa bill) to her own view of Heaven; a wonderous place where small girls don't have to eat their vegetables before they're allowed pudding, and where Barbie dolls grow on trees. Anyway, I digress. Last week Firstborn started shouting "Kill! Kill!" in a bloodthirsty tone while bashing her hithero-beloved teddy against the wall. This was topped by her purposely flushing her favourite My Little Pony down the loo. ...
11 comments
gimme more...

What Price Romance?

Let's talk romance for a moment. Manhattan Mama clearly feels deprived in this department and this is one of the most bewildering aspects of life with her. My latest attempt to remedy this is to make a reservation at A Voce--some interpretation of Tuscan cuisine--that the NYT recently gave three very optimistic stars. I've been a few times on my employers expense, so I know it's nice but I also know what it's going to cost. I'm thinking lucky if we get out of there for less than $150. Tack on another $50 for the babysitter. Then drinks, cabs, etc. Better not to do the math. It's not that MM wouldn't be perfectly happy with a kabab or a trip to the hipster taqueria, maybe some flowers from the corner stand. None of that would register in her mind as this mythic thing know as a DATE, and thus would win me no more points on her end than remembering to take down the recycling. Making a DATE means you're thinking of her, which means you're engaged with h...
10 comments
gimme more...