Our daughter is potty-trained. Becky praised her for being a "big girl" twice for things like helping Lucy. I guess that's all she needed to make her big girl status official. One day, she was soiling diapers like any old bum on the street, and the next day she's taking off her pants, climbing onto the toilet, wiping herself, flushing, and pulling her pants back up. Maybe she was exposed to some radiation or somethings.
As a reward for her new-found independence, Sam received her very first nightgown, which also affords her only one layer of disrobing when she is called by nature.
Easter Sunday. Word to your mother.
Lucy is not potty-trained, but we do find ourselves forgetting to change her now that our diaper needs are halved.
Courtesy of Jeremiah Fernelius Shakespear.