In yet another sign of bad mothering, I had to say no. I slept well.
"She was croaking like a frog," he said.
Today she is not croaking so much as mini-hacking. At breakfast, a Cheerio got mired in the booger glue of her upper lip. She didn't seem to notice as she continued to insert individual "o"s into her mouth. Again with the bad mothering, I laughed out loud.
Right now she's resigned herself to the couch, watching her new favorite DVD, Go Potty Go!. I have high hopes for this cartoon. Between that and the potty song I made up (P-O-T-T-Y to the tune of B-I-N-G-O), I'm saying potty prayers that she'll learn her way out of diapers fast.
Please excuse the poor photography. My artistic flair is limited to words.