My apologies for writing about toilet training twice in a row but as I mentioned, it’s all potty all the time around here. While visiting grandparents in upstate New York this past weekend, we had a portable seat with us. Mere moments after arriving, my daughter let us know that there was no way she was going to use the portable seat, that she much preferred – and required – a real little potty. It’s amazing how demanding someone so small can be. We tend to spend a fair amount of time upstate during the summer, and she’s not the only grandchild who visits, so it felt like a wise idea to buy the house a potty.
My parents’ home isn’t located near a wealth of stores and so, on a swelteringly hot day (why so boiling so early in June? scary!) I found myself in exactly the sort of monstrously huge big box store I avoid as if it were my religion. I’m talking a Kids 'R' Us. The offgassing plastic toy chemicals hit us like an anvil when we walked in. But I digress. I’m not-so-secretly fascinated by the shocking amount of crap in these kinds of stores -- does any kid actually need or ask for a fake Barbie laptop? -- but also amazed by how quickly even the most suspicious consumer (ahem) can be drawn in. Life would be so much easier if only I were allowed to just go ahead and buy everything in this store, I found myself thinking after 3 minutes of inhaling the fumes. Imagine the luxury of not knowing or not bothering to read labels!? ... Need a stepstool? Get a stepstool! No research, no looking for unpainted hard wood versions. Oh, the simplicity!
Back to reality ...
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