I know I shouldn’t post this, but it took me back to the days of potty training the Squishy. She put me THROUGH IT, let me tell you. I’m sure I lost some very valuable days off my life expectancy just in following her around and trying to determine when her self-imposed constipation would finally end. If you don’t like gross stories, don’t read this one. It’s Throwback Thursday.
Just now I was dancing like a fiend to Somebody to Love by Justin Bieber. While trying to dance my flab away, SnuggleMonkey had to “go.” Since she refuses to do her business in a potty she could fall into, she uses the $22 Target training pot. It is difficult to clean a bottom while still dancing. I did.
Then, still dancing, I carried the “success” (though in many ways it was horrific) to the actual pot to flush. In that process, still dancing, I began to gag. Still dancing and now also gagging, I emptied the evidence and flushed. Gagging worse now and dancing not quite so much, I tried to clean the Target pot.
And then, no longer dancing at all, I threw up. Twice. And now I look like someone being treated for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I have GOT to get her using the regular pot.
All gagging aside now, I gotta go. Back to dancing. Hasta.