A potty training breakthrough?

After several good nights in a row, we have had several...not...good...nights...in a row. 

Quick tangent! 

When I was in high school I was (tangentially; I was an "extra" and didn't really have a part) in a musical production of The Mystery of Edwin Drood and in that play Princess Puffer has a line where she breaks the fourth wall to interact with the audience and she picks someone to point flirtatiously at and says, "Fancy seeing you here two nights in a row!"

But the girl who was playing the part was affecting a strong kind of...cockney...accent and so to my ears it sounded something more like, "Fancy seeing you here tonight, Sinnarow!"

And it took me years to untangle that line. I was always like, "Who is Sinnarow?!"

So, anyway, we've had a few bad potty nights, Sinnarow, and I've been losing hope. 

But, I just finished my run and took a shower (yes, I ran at midnight because I forgot to do it earlier and then I had to shower and then...)

Quick tangent!

I forgot how to hang up the squeegee. 

There I was, all freshly clean, the walls of the shower freshly squeeged and...oh, no! I simply could not remember how to put the squeegee away.

There's a hook on the wall—a double hook thing, kind of like this:

That's not the squeegee we have, but it's illustrative of my dilemma. You see, there's a hole at the bottom of the handle and one could hang the squeegee up by that little hole...except that the hole is too little to fit on the double hook thing. I know because I tried...and tried...and tried...and, like, what in the world?! 

That darn squeegee simply would not take to the hook! 

And then I remembered that it simply rests on the hooks. It doesn't hang like some floozy of a squeegee. It sits gracefully balanced on its throne. 

So, anyway...I had just finished my shower and had even remember how to hang up the squeegee (thank you very much) when I encountered Phoebe in the hallway, standing in absolute silence.

"Hello, sweet thing!" I said. "Do you need to go potty?"

"No," she said. "I just want you to be on my floor for two songs."

"Well, I think we should try going potty just in case because it's possible your brain woke you up because you needed to go potty."

"I don't think so," she said. 

"Well, we had watermelon tonight, so I do think so."

Watermelon tends to run right through my kids. I don't know what it is about watermelon...

It's probably the "water" part, eh?

Anyway, I convinced her to sit on the potty and, as it turns out, she did need to go. 

"Hey, Mom," she said while she was gracefully balanced on her throne. "A funny thing happened and you know that alarm what isn't on my body? It went off in the middle of the night and I had to get up to turn it off."

"The alarm that isn't on your body?" I repeated. "Like...the clock in your room? The alarm clock went off?"

"Yeah," she said. "And I don't know how I turned it off because when I got up it just turned off...like magic!"

"Interesting," I said. "We'll have to check that out because we don't want your alarm clock going off in the middle of the night!"

"Yeah! Because then I have to get up to turn it off!"

"And that's no fun."

But—you guys!—I checked the alarm clock in their room and it's set for a decent wake up time in the morning, so it had not gone off. 

Andrew and I figure that what actually happened was that an alarm went off in her brain (like in a dream or something) to wake her up to go potty. And that's pretty cool! 

If she hears an alarm in her head before she wets the bed...then...I mean...I guess the chummie is doing its job!

Here's to many more dry nights in a row!