Pride, Elmo and "Emmys"

Based on these items around our house, can you guess what we're doing?

• Sesame Street sticker sheets with all the Elmos picked off
  
• shocking hot pink poster board
• Antibacterial 409
  
• M&Ms (or "Emmys," according to Madeline)
  
• Disney princess under.wear
• grocery list: plastic gloves
• buckets of Purell
  

And if that isn't clear enough, Joe and I are now the proud owners of a foam Elmo potty seat.

Yup, we have begun. Madeline has been so enthralled with all things potty that, while I've heard the resounding chorus of, "Don't push her until she's ready!," I wanted to see if maybe she was ready now.

So she and I headed to Target Thursday afternoon and bought the Elmo seat. I had to practically mop up her drool.

When I set it on the toilet, she quaked with excitement and begged me to let her sit on it.

When she woke up this morning, the first thing she wanted to do was see if Elmo was there or if it was just a dream.

So she put on Cinderella and drank pink lemonade for the first time. She sat on the potty every 10 minutes and read book after book. After each time, she got a sticker and one M&M.

I think she had the best morning on her life.

Then Cinderella got drenched.

And Jasmine bit the dust.

Belle was the final casualty before we took a break for lunch and nap time. As soon as she woke up, she wanted back on Elmo.

And then The Big Moment happened.

Based on my excitement, you would've thought I finally had my much-anticipated epiphany on why everyone likes "Dancing With the Stars" so much. (I still don't have a clue about that.)

Madeline got two M&Ms and as we did the potty dance, I had visions of donating my diapers to friends and trying not to smile smugly while saying, "Yes, it's true. She was potty-trained in six hours."

And then I realized I was dancing in a small puddle.

Pride cometh before the puddle.

I know it's a long road ahead and, I promise, I'm totally fine with this being a process. Truly.

The idea of not buying diapers was pretty enticing until my mother-in-law casually mentioned that "potty-trained" really means "You-must-know-the-location-of-the-nearest-yet-cleanest-bathroom-at-all-times."

I'll admit it. I do enjoy the luxury of saying, "OK, I'll change it in just one minute."

And if you potty-trained your child in six hours, I'll take your diapers but I don't want to hear about it.