"mommy, did you do this to my air?"

like we didn't just watch her abruptly stop what she was doing to get up, run down the hallway yelling "POO POO POO POO." 

silence. grunt. silence. grunt. silence. 

and then return to the program already in progress like we wouldn't notice. bringing with her death in a diaper.

"yes, please help me shut off this horrible, wretched, VILE, obscene smell 

accosting my nostrils! I have no thumbs! please help!"

oh, wait. ha. that was me.

it's time to start the potty training. ugh. i realize the rewards and the money saved in helping this little one not shit herself 3 times a day, but i also dread the random "mommy, poo poos" while grocery shopping for no other reason than to see what the inside of the restroom looks like at every disgusting public place. her insisting to remove all of her clothing in said disgusting public restroom just to touch EVERY germ infested surface as she climbs onto the toilet to sit there and look me dead in the eye and say, "i don't have to go anymore."

i may have prior experience in this particular fun activity. i may still be enduring the pain of this particular activity. only it involves a very independent (or completely dependent) 3 year old boy who insists on laying his - uh - boyhood right on the porcelain ring of germtastic fun.

it's ok. i knew this was coming. i will make her deathly afraid of those germs, that's what i'll do. i will give my daughter a gift wrapped phobia of all things dirty. OCD with a pretty bow.

it's a little extreme, i know. the things we selfishly do for our children.