Day 2 of potty training. It dawns on me that this task requires ALL of my attention, energy, presence. Once past the wailing resistance of the early morning hours, we reach an agreeable place, a sort-of fun game of turning off the timer and re-setting it. She says, “tick-tock, tick-tock.” The entire day is spent in 15-minute increments, conducive to little arts n’ crafts projects like cutting paper snowflakes while she paints, like pulling out the felt board, like finally cleaning out the toy closet in the den. It is not conducive to writing, submitting work, answering emails, or working on the photo albums I’ve procrastinated too long. It’s a day I find myself sitting on the bathroom floor in pajamas reading a Curious George book for the tenth time before resorting to blurry YouTube renditions of “Frosty the Snowman” on my phone to keep the kiddo on the potty. I have no idea what time it is, only that it’s 15 minutes from the last time I sat on the floor and read the book and watched the video. These are long days, my friends.
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