It's my potty and I'll cry if I want to.
We're working on it again, but it's hard for me to be enthusiastic this time. I find myself counting from one to ninety-two in order to keep my cool when accidents arise. I am trying to stay on top of him to make sure he makes a trip to the bathroom at least once per hour, but if anyone knows me, I lose track of time like a doped rat. But I'd say the worst part of training a boy is - misfire.
Where is that nanny I've been relentlessly praying for? Now would be a fabulous time for her to magically appear. Any volunteers?