The Scariest Thing of All

Blaise is taking the most official step there is between being a baby and being a little boy.

That's right. We have started potty training.

As a new parent, I think I was more afraid of potty training than anything else. Give me 3 am feedings, give me fevers of unknown cause, give me terrible twos and adolescence. But please, please, spare me from potty training.

As it turned out, Roman was a breeze to potty train. It could not have gone better.

Blaise is 30 months old. 2 1/2. The perfect age to start. (Especially since pediatricians recommend that potty training not be started until after the age of 27 months.)

I have been dragging my feet on getting started. I always had excuses. "I'm still in school." "I'm traveling for interviews." "I'm working on a research project." I kept telling Keith, my mom, and the daycare that I was waiting until I had more time at home and could focus on it.

But truthfully, that's not the reason. Blaise still seems so little to me. He is round, and chubby, and dimply, and giggly. He's still my baby. And I want to keep it that way as long as possible. Potty training means that he leaves the title of baby behind and joins his brother as a little boy.


But, as he kept asking to go potty, there wasn't any sense to continue to procrastinate. He's ready, so I need to become ready.

So we have started. Slowly.

Wish us luck.