In less than a week’s time, G-d willing, spit, spit, knock wood, keynahora, Malka will be three years old.
I have a big blog post brewing in my head, and one of those Dooce, nee, Cecily, nee, all of y’all “Dear Malka” letters brewing, but for now, I’m dealing with grandpa coming into town today, a house to clean, a computer nightmare at work, (which has slowed down my productivity enormously), wondering when next we will hear from our adoption agency, a million party favor bags stuffed, prepping for TWO, yes, TWO Birthday parties – one at our house, and one at school (a whole entire comedic entry on its own, trust me), and Narda’s crazy work schedule at the end of the sememster which has basically rendered me a single mom, even though I get to see my love at the end of the day.
So we’re tired in this house, and the coffee? She’s a flowing. I promise a genuine post soon, but in the mean time, I will share that the potty training thing? Um, it’s kind of working. But don’t clap too loudly, I don’t want to jinx it. She’ll go when we tell her, and she holds it really well, some mornings she wakes up dry, others not, but she’s a trooper, and now we just have to work on getting her to TELL US when she has to go. She is interested in the whole underwear thing, but we think it feels funny to her, so she’ll “try them on,” and then take them off and ask for a pull up. It’s FINE by us, as we though the kid would NEVER know how to use a toilet, so all in the time it’s meant to be, I guess.