No. 1 times 2

Since I'm home with Ava and Doni will be home with her all summer, we decided this would be the perfect time to re-kickstart Ava's potty training. Apparently when Doni was a toddler she was a potty training prodigy. They put her in panties and after the first time she peed in them she was trained. We were hoping for the same good luck with Ava.

Ava and I went to pick up some panties at Wal-Mart after Doni went to work yesterday morning. I felt like a pervert looking through the choices of toddler panties on the rack. I'm glad Ava was with me or people might have called security. There were Dora panties. There were "no ride-up" panties. Three-packs, four-packs, and six-packs. Tagless and tagged. Do we really need that many choices for an article of clothing that few people are going to see? We settled on a variety six-pack of the tagless type. I went through the self checkout because I wasn't about to hand my one item to a cashier. A guy has to maintain some level of pride.

When we got home I changed her out of her diaper and into her panties. I went to put her skort back on and she said, "No!" She gave me a look like, "Can't you see I already have bottoms on?" Apparently anything other than a diaper qualifies as bottoms. Eventually she agreed to put on a pair of shorts.

We went out into the living room and she started playing. She hadn't even had the panties on five minutes when she stopped cold, looked to me for help, and said, "Oh no!" I saw streams of urine dripping down both legs and puddling on the carpet. Oh no indeed, Ava. I picked her up, holding her away from my body, and took her to the bathroom. By the time she sat on the toilet it was too late. She had already finished. I thought maybe, just maybe, Ava's 23 chromosomes from Doni would kick in.

She suited up with a new pair of panties and shorts. Back to playtime. Thirty minutes later we entered round two in the potty training tournament. It was like deja vu (all over again). She was playing normally, froze with her legs spread, looked to Dad, and said, "Oh no!" By this time she was getting tired, so she didn't handle it as well as the first time. She cried as I took her to the bathroom. She cried as I pulled her shorts and panties down. She cried as I placed her on the toilet. She continued crying as she sat on the toilet. I went to my old standby where I get on my knees and hug her as she sits on the toilet. No go. She wanted off that toilet.

Figuring two tries in one day was good enough, I diapered her up and asked if she wanted to go night-night (code for anytime she goes to sleep). Usually she'll come right out and tell us if she's nap ready. Other times, like this time, she'll deny it to the end. I laid her in her crib despite her pleas to the contrary. Thirty seconds later she was as quiet as a church mouse. Another slam dunk for father's intuition.