Potty Mouth

I sat outside the bathroom the other night holding my video camera, thinking I was happiest girl in the world.

There were four little girls inside. Two on the potty. One providing verbal prompts. One playing the role of cheerleader.

There are two little potty chairs in there for the twins. They sit side-by-side. Josie thinks the blue one is hers, and Jennie straddles the pink one.

Josie means business. The baby girl that won't stop moving all of a sudden becomes glued to her potty. Glued. Focused. She has a game face that resembles a strained expression. She's there to prove something.

Jennie, whose potty is probably a little too high for her, works pretty hard at getting on the thing. And since the journey to the top is so much fun, she immediately slides her bottom off, and then turns around to do it again.

Josie starts clapping. Clapping is her sign of victory. Jennie springs into action. She knows how she can be most helpful. She runs over, unrolls a square of toilet paper, and hands it to her sister. Jennie can be counted on every time for backup support. She's a gem.

The prompting sister prompts Josie to wipe. And she does. Then she proceeds to wipe her nose, too. Same square. Different parts wiped. I have the "grossed out" moans on tape from Grace and Faith. I remind them that Josie's actions must be learned behavior. No one wants to take credit.

High fives all around. And clapping. And happiness.

All on tape.