We have poop, people!

In the potty! Where it belongs!

It was one week ago today that Britt finally started dropping the kids off at the pool. She wears panties all day and Pull-Ups only at night and away from home. She has occasional wet "accinents" but I haven't had to clean up any poopy panties, for which I am profoundly grateful.

She doesn't want an audience, though, so she slips away quietly to do her business and then comes running to tell me, "I pooped! Come and see!" So I go and admire the, um, end product, wipe her bottom and flush. And we all go away happy.

I put all her panties in her brand-new chest of drawers so she can grab a fresh pair whenever she needs to, and that's working out pretty well -- except that she usually uses a leg hole for a waistband, resulting in some pretty comical wedgies.

Also, I put all her stained, ratty clothing in the other drawers so she can pick out her own play clothes for the day and dress herself, while all her nice outfits for school and public outings hang safely in the closet. Or that was the plan, anyway. She keeps yanking them off their hangers, thinking she's going to wear her pretty dresses out to play in the backyard. Also, she changes clothes at least three or four times a day. Because she can. Because they're there. So accessible. So irresistible.

Another item in her chest of drawers: I was putting laundry away and pushed a drawer shut and heard a "yowwwr!" Stupid cat. I had to keep opening and closing drawers (more "yowwwrs") before I finally found him and dragged him out. I'm not sure if Britt tucked him away in there or if he found his own way in, but nothing would surprise me at this point.