There's a new twice-daily ritual in the Casa Amos: Potty Time. Once in the morning and once in the evening, we pull out the potty seat, sit a cute little baby hiney on it, sing the alphabet song a few times through, and then wait to see what happens. While we have discussed the nature of the potty and what normally occurs when one sits on The Throne, Little A has yet to produce any contributions to the cause. Which is totally fine, of course, and I love to watch his little gears turn when you ask him to pee-pee.
What's even more delightful is the look of absolute joy that spreads across his face when you say to him, "Wanna go sit on the potty?" His face lights up, and he exclaims "Potty!" and dashes off in the direction of the bathroom.
And that's what being a toddler is all about: the sheer excitement in the most mundane of life events. Like sitting on the potty.
Today, Little A is nineteen-months-old. His favorite number is two, loves the color yellow, and plays a wicked game of hide-and-seek (except that he hides primarily in only one or two places).