Mission Aborted

After three days of unsuccessful attempts at getting Quinn to enjoy wearing big girl underwear, we've aborted our mission – again.

The main thing to remember is that, despite unsuccessful potty training, we still love our daughter very much. Wet pants or no, we love her just the same.

Sure, she's not interested in Yo Gabba Gabba! panties, and yes, we are still worried she may be at her junior prom with a diaper bag in tow, but in the end, we're confident she'll know she's loved.

Don't get us wrong... We intend to try again after a short while. We're just not interested in screaming at our daughter and dragging her angry little form into the bathroom.

As her daddy said, "The bathroom should be a nice place. I don't want to make her hate it."

And he'd know – he loves it enough to spend at least half an Entertainment Weekly there.

Day 2: Soggy Sunday

What do you get when you add potty training to NFL divisional playoffs?

If you guessed, "wet pants," you're right on! And unlike the New York Giants and the Baltimore Ravens, who may have peed their pants in excitement to know they made it to next week, our little Quinn is peeing her pants for a variety of reasons, none of which included winning an important game.

Unless you think of "I'm still not potty trained, Mom and Dad!" as a game.

We think it could be our non-adherence to the every-half-hour rule. When the timer goes off, we never fail to ask Quinn, "Do you want to go to the potty?" And, of course, that answer is always a resounding, "NO!"

It probably doesn't help that one of us is completely distracted by football on TV while the other is becoming addicted to Words with Friends while having to stay home all weekend.

Ahem.

Still, it's probably best to celebrate our successes. Quinn has caught herself a couple of times, walking carefully to us and telling us she needs to go the potty. Each time we've considered it a win.

And as the Ravens and Giants can probably tell you, a win is a win is a win is a win.

Day 1: Wet in the Trenches

We thought we were doing so well. After a good morning of three bathroom visits and a nap in which she woke up dry, Quinn foiled our neat little plan when – after we put her awesome Yo Gabba Gabba! panties on her – she quietly smiled, peed her pants, and tracked pee all over the floor.

We quickly took off the pants again and went back to the no-pants-on-for-the-first-day method. But then we saw this article that said you could "naked potty train" your kid, which means the kid won't understand pants aren't supposed to be a convenient way to capture pee. (This was a frightening concept that had us imagining a wild adult Quinn running through the woods without pants. She'd eventually be cornered and it would come out that she was naked potty trained... Even the wolves would shake their heads.)

And so back on went the training pants. No panties yet, but the training pants are cotton so she'll know when she's had an accident.

Potty Training for the Weekend

Will the Gabba friends be enough to convince Quinn to pee in the potty?

We have a weekend in which we don't have any plans. Aside from a couple of work commitments, we're at home all weekend.

It's the perfect chance to potty train Quinn. (Read as: It's the perfect chance to ruin our two days off by tricking an angry almost-3-year-old into peeing in the pot.)

The thing is, Quinn has been pooping in the potty for several months. She hasn't pooped her pants since September.
Peeing is another story. For some reason, she sees no reason to rush to the bathroom for No. 1.

Alas, Yo Gabba Gabba! panties and her impatient parents are ganging up against her pee party for one.
Quinn's daycare teacher suggested we take her every half hour, whether she wants to or not. This is quite the feat. Quinn has the kind of lung power that would've made Pavarotti turn green.

But if Quinn really wants to take ballet – she's been asking every day to go to class – she's gotta learn to use the potty.

After all, we don't think any ballet company would want its prima ballerina to be peeing her pants in the middle of a pirouette, and we're pretty sure a diaper would stick out beneath a tutu.

Punishment for Quinn is twice as bad for us

Country Waffles and YouTube don't mix. Literally. Not even an option.

Maybe it's because the whole family is almost completely healed or maybe it's because we were feeling dangerous this Saturday morning, but we decided to take a chance on breakfast out at Country Waffles.

I packed our iPad, just in case we needed to distract Quinn long enough to finish our own meals. It worked in the past, with our daughter's attention drawn to the kid's games and videos while we wolfed down our sandwich/pasta/whatever meal we could probably have made at home.

Unfortunately, since the last time we ventured out to eat, Quinn has developed quite the addiction to the Internet – YouTube, to be exact.

Thankfully, she doesn't watch age inappropriate material, but her addiction to all things Just Dance 3 (see previous posts), Pocoyo and Peppa Pig knows no bounds.

Great, except Country Waffles isn't exactly known for its free (or even paid) WiFi service.

And so there sat our little daughter, madly trying to get YouTube to start and growing more frustrated by the minute.

We couldn't appease her. We offered her raisins, puffs, crayons, videos and games, but nothing worked.

She threw a mini-tantrum, right there in Country Waffles.

As we packed her into the car, she called out, "We're going to the park now! Quinn's playing on the playground!"

"No, Quinn, we're not," Derek said. "You acted poorly at the restaurant so no playground."

"But...but...we're going to the playground?"

"No, Quinn," Derek reiterated. "We're going home."

This exchange occurred over and over until she realized she really wasn't going to the playground, which kind of bummed us out as well. We like taking her to the playground and seeing her enjoy herself outdoors. But the playground is a reward for good behavior so we couldn't go today.

And so, not only did we miss out on the playground but we got a sullen kid to boot.

Quinn eventually quieted down, every now and then mumbling, "But...but..." We don't know where she got that – probably YouTube, which is now augmenting our daughter's vocabulary and ruining breakfast.

Boogie Wipes and Other Legends of the Disco

OK, actually there's nothing about the disco here. But the terrifically named "Boogie Wipes" have me constantly singing, "Boogie Wipes! Ain't no doubt – we are here to party! Boogie Wipes!" to the tune of the Heatwaves' "Boogie Nights."
For anyone who's ever wondered if there's something better out there than the latest lotion-laden tissue for a little kid's chapped nose, Boogie Wipes is your answer. (And if you join the company's Boogie Bunch, you can score a 50-cent-off coupon! This is a good thing, considering the rather hefty price for the saline wipes.)
There are several available scents, including Fresh and Menthol, but why buy those when you can get the most awesome scent since the strawberry scratch-and-sniff sticker – Great Grape!
Let's face it – wiping a kid's nose every two minutes before the inevitable snot-all-over-the-face occurs isn't the most fun activity. But these amazingly scented wipes actually make it quite fun.
In fact, hold on, Quinn needs a wipe. SNNNNIIIIIIIFFFFFF. Sigh...
Lest you think we're snorting these grape-scented wonders, let me assure you we haven't quite flipped out that far – even though a sick Quinn, who wakes up intermittently in the night crying, does make us feel like we're losing our minds.
The good news is if we do ever go crazy, it'll be a fragrant fall into insanity.

Super Sizing Her Happy

The Happy Meal's healthier with less guilt on the side.

Before we had Quinn, we used to think we were going to be the kind of parents who only fed our children healthy food. And now that we've had Quinn, we try to be the dream. We really do.
But the kid likes fries.
And so since she's under the weather and has a terrible appetite – seriously, it's like she's fasting – we've allowed her to have one Happy Meal.
While we don't recommend McDonald's on a regular basis, we do have to give props to the fast food spot for trying to better themselves when it comes to kids' nutrition. Quinn got her fries, but she also got apple wedges and Minute Maid apple juice.
Oh, and she got a funny little toy Chipmunk as well. It's Alvin in a tux, and he cries, "Awesome!" or "OK!"
So while we may not be introducing McDonald's into our regular rotation, it's sure nice that they're helping us feel a little less guilty when we do wander through the Drive-Thru.