The Potty Has It

Everywhere I turn lately people are talking about potty-training. What's the right age? What's the best method? Or 'geez, that kid is 3 and still not potty-trained?' as though it's going to prevent them from some day attending Harvard.
With Breanna, the cat sort of trained her and she also trained the cat.
When we thought maybe it was time to start potty training her we bought one that played music every time she peed. I thought it was the coolest thing in the world! I mean, what kid wouldn't want music to announce their amazing mastery of the potty? Right?
The first time she did it and that music played she ran out of the bathroom crying, still peeing and then refused to go anywhere near it.
I thought we were never going to get her out of diapers. Someday she would be telling her therapist that she would love to use the potty but she was afraid of the orchestra.
Then she saw the cat in the litter box.
I spent the next few weeks pulling her out of the litter box and trying to explain why people don't pee in boxes filled with dirt.
Finally, I moved the litter box into the bathroom, next to the now broken musical toilet. Anytime the cat would go in, so would she.
And then one day I walked in on the cat sitting on the toilet. Peeing. In the toilet.
He sat and looked at me. I stood and stared at him.
He sniffed and I think that if he could have he would have slammed the door in my face. Who did I think I was invading his privacy like that?
With David it's different.
We thought that he was ready. He gave all the cues that he was. He tells us when he's peed or poo-ed, talks about the potty, knows how to flush, and will go into the bathroom to do his thing.
We bought him a non-musical potty (though they had that musical one and I was so tempted because how awesome! except that didn't work out so well last time) and showed it to him. We sat him on it and he happily kicked his feet and sang 'potty, potty, potty'.
But, nothing.
Weeks have passed and still nothing.
The other day when I suggested the potty he agreed, but refused to take off his diaper. He sat and smiled, kicked his feet and talked away as though we were best friends having coffee. Then he did the one thing that can only be blamed on his father and makes me so very glad that we have 3 bathrooms.

"Mamas, I need book!"