Are you my mother?

Does it count as potty training if Jack stands in his frog potty while using it as a step stool, pees down the dresser and leaves a puddle on the floor that is everywhere but in the frog potty? "Messy!", Jack says. "Yes, Messy!" I say as I mop it up with baby wipes. At least we may be starting to connect the act of peeing with the potty, but it is more likely we just got excited that we discovered a new climbing tool.

I also tried to fulfill the fantasy that Jack might sit still for a haircut. The fantasy that we might bring a handsome, cleanly clipped boy to our Thanksgiving festivities. Jack does not share my dream as he repeatedly told me he might "fall" out of the chair and therefore desperately tried to escape as I more desperately tried to shear his baby mullet. Probably was a little too optimistic on my part for a Thursday night with no sidekick to distract him. He may have to wear a paper bag now.

We ended the night right by sharing some strawberry ice cream and books. My favorite part was reading "Are You My Mother?" At the end Jack always points at me and says "Mommy!" He is letting me know that he knows I am his mother. He is much smarter than that half-wit baby bird.