It was not much more than a week ago that I lamented Sasha’s slow toilet training, enumerating the many, many places she has managed to pee (e.g., on her bike seat, on a cafe chair) while marveling at the sole instance of her actually pissing in a toilet in front of me.
Well, much has changed since then, my friends, much has changed. For three afternoons after that first miraculous micturation, Sasha peed on the classroom potty before we went home. Wonderful, but still within the normal range of her behavior.
At the beginning of last week, however, I drove Sasha up to Connecticut for an extended stay with my parents, and almost immediately she began demanding to pee in the potty. And then, amazing to behold, she’d actually pee in said potty. Again and again this happened, as many as five or six times a day. Some were gushers, others were trickles, but all took place at her command (or, okay, occasionally, her assent). “Daddy, I need to peepee!” is a phrase often heard around this house. Once, when I was busy, I even instructed her to go find Grandpa for help, and she did so.
It’s just fucking incredible, that’s my point. One day, not too long ago, she was like a wild retarded animal, befouling herself uncontrollably, and then, out of nowhere, she decided to civilize herself, to walk upright and pee sitting down. What happened in there? What mental switch was thrown? And why did everything else (peer pressure, parental pressure, teacher pressure) fail? (Or did it somehow really succeed?) How does this all happen?
Of course, there is a downside to this: Sasha has already learned that requesting assistance with the potty is a great way to get my attention. So, even when she doesn’t need to pee that bad, if she’s feeling neglected, either because I’m talking to a grown-up or cooking or blogging or something, she’ll demand a pointless trip to the toilet, where, after squeeze out a few drips, wipe up, and happily declare, “I pee awesome!” And though I can see through her charade, I have to admit: She’s right.