So, will Grace cheerfully kill me when she's older because I published a picture of her on the potty? Who knows, but I'll die a happy death because we finally got the potty training job done. The problem wasn't Grace, it was me. First I chickened out of training her because we were doing traveling in the summer...Sandra and Keith's house - yeah! Then I had a wicked bout of sciatica and I couldn't bend down without wanting to cry. Finally I tore a ligament in my foot and had to wear a gigantic Bledsoe boot for four weeks. I wasn't in the mood to potty train. In the end, she basically did it herself. What a great little gal!
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