My daughter, Tiffany called today to share a funny story while KC sat on the toilet. Tif said she asked KC which potty seat she wanted to use, the Diego (Dora the Explorer) or Elmo seat? Instead of saying the Elmo potty she answered, “sesamestreet.org.” She’s definitely her techie father’s daughter.
Then I heard KC yell exultantly and Tif said, “That’s a pongu, KC. It doesn’t count. It has to be a poopie or shi shi (Japanese for pee).”
“But Daddy (who is Korean American) likes pongu,” KC said. I have a feeling my son-in-law always laughs boisterously when his daughter has her little bursts of flatulence.
“I know,” said Tif, “but you have to poopie for a jelly bean.”
Then I told KC on the cellphone that I knew she could use the potty like a big girl.
“But Grandma, I'm a little big girl… I poopie in my diaper,” replied logically.
I guess she still can’t understand why she shouldn’t continue to do it there since it’s a whole lot more convenient and she’s always done it that way.
“My okole is trying hard, Grandma,” she grunted plaintively, “My okole is trying.” (Okole is Hawaiian for your behind.)
The attempt was unsuccessful and we left Tiffany to continue her multi lingual toilet training with KC.
Art made a short call later to KC and said, “KC, this is Grandpa. Use the potty.”
“Did you seriously think that would work?” I said, rolling my eyes.
An hour later we got another call and it was KC, “I used the potty, Grandma! I used the potty Grandpa!” she screamed triumphantly.” We clapped and cheered for her while she methodically made her decision on which little jelly bean she would eat.
I’m thinking our minds will be in (I mean on) the toilet for the next few days.