A Fruitless Morning....

It is now my lunch hour, and what am I doing? I am at my desk working with a phone glued to my ear (which makes typing this a wee bit more difficult...)

The other end is mostly silent, punctuated at times by screams. No, it is not 1-800-MASOCHISM, it is Ally.

Cindy started potty-training her a week ago Friday, with stellar results. At least in the No. 1 category. In the other category, her streak has been more spotty. (Or should I say, her potty has been more streaked? Her streak has been more potty?')

Anyway, at Ally's bleating request this is the second time I have been coaching her by phone. Being in a cubicle farm, I try to do so unobtrusively.

Much as I would like to belt out my patented sideline (side-bowl?) chant of 'Poop It Out! Poop It Out! WAAAAAAY OUT!' , I refrain, as co-workers would look at me even more strangely.

So I am left uttering merely vague phrases, such as 'C'mon Ally, you can do it!' and 'C'mon! You're a big girl!'

But it is to no avail today--she just screams back at me, 'NO I CAN'T!' and 'NO I'M NOT!'

Last Friday went much better--I spent a good 30 minutes cajoling, coaching, and cheerleading, and in the end it exited her end.

She will either have a diaper on soon (as an eruption is very imminent), or she will succeed.

It looks like we will all have to wait and see!