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  • Strollerderby Playdate: From Huggies to Depends; Who Needs Potty Training Anyway?

    I've been thinking more and more about potty training recently, and it's starting to freak me out. Emmeline turns 14 months in a few days, and I remember another dad telling me there's a certain window on the near horizon -- a golden window, if you will -- that allows you to potty train earlier than most.

    "Miss it," he told me, "And who knows how long you'll have to wait. Forever maybe. Some kids just don't get it. Ever."

    Though this was his first child and though he admitted he couldn't change a diaper, I took his words to heart -- my mind filled with images of walking my daughter down the aisle and seeing the bulge of Depends through her white dress. I began to worry.

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  • Strollerderby Playdate: It Always Comes Back to Poop

    Awww, come on. Don't roll your eyes about another poop post. You know you've uttered something about poop at least four times already today and thought about it at least double that, as in "Note to mommy self: Must remember to tell father of this child to empty diaper pail as child's propencity toward excessive early morning pooping clearly derived from one of his 26 chromosones." 

    In case playgroup or book club or that big conference call with New York isn't until the end of the week and you need some serious commiserating today, or in case you have a glorious hour or four away from the kids and are missing out on every child and parents favorite topic, here's the scoop on poop around the blogo right now:

    Doug's running the bases with a post-potty-trained kid, rounding the port-a-potty, the car and the shower, all inside one T-Ball inning.

    The pipes are bursting at Fidget's house...and not the ones the plumbing inspector's there to check out.

    After some serious tub-scrubbing, Cullen's kid hits the showers screaming.

    Kristen's pulling that move from Singles. You know, the one where Keira Sedgwick wipes down the toilet with her ex-boyfriend's t-shirt that made you cringe and cheer. Only this time, it's Kristen's brand new shirt on her daughter's bum. Oh, and it's not a hip Seattle apartment, it's a nasty roadside gas station. But you'll cringe and cheer all the same.



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