A while back my friend left a comment on my blog about her mother’s advice to “remember the cat.” Andrew and I have been joking about that ever since, whenever I need something. Like breakfast. Or sleep. Or not to be touched for 2 minutes of the day.
I was holding Rachel over the potty a few days ago and for some reason she wouldn’t go potty, even though she had given me all the signs that she needed to go. I was sure she had to go, she just had to relax enough to do it. Then the phrase “remember the cat” popped into my head and I had a stroke of pure genius.
I wiped Miriam’s behind with the corner of a wipe and then held her over the potty again. She went instantly.
Andrew walked by and so I explained my brilliant idea to him.
“So, you know cats litter-box train their kittens by licking their bums when they’re in the litter box so that they know to go?”
“Well, Miriam didn’t want to go, so…”
“Of course not! You didn’t really think that I did, did you?!”
“Well…kind of…I mean, with the way you prefaced things…”
“I used a wipe, Mr. PhD.”
Sometimes I wonder what he thinks of me. Wonder no more…