OOC is our shorter way of saying “Out Of Control” because we say it a lot! My girl is OOC!
The picture above doesn’t seem too crazy. An open toilet, a diaper next to it, some toilet paper strung about and a trash can. No biggie, right? Wrong! Sissy is COMPLETELY capable of using the toilet. But she is a pain in the neck and still must be in love with her diaper. I haven’t even officially tried to potty train her, because I am pretty confidant that when she wants to go on the big girl potty, she will.
But every once in a while, I catch her pushing, so I run her over to the potty. Sometimes she is cool with it, and other times she has a fit. (That is kind of her M.O. lately –hot one minute, cold the next.) Anyway, I ran her over and put her on. I have found that if I leave, a lot of times she likes to “surprise” me with her offerings. So I left her for a minute to go and put some dishes away. Instead of surprising me, she “surprised” Ka. And then I heard, “Lindsey…get in here right now!” What was my weasel up to this time? Well, apparently after I left, she did go. But she had gotten off the toilet and sat on the trash can to go. So the next picture on my IPhoto is a little more graphic — and it is of a little trash, a little potty and a little poop. She was so proud, and asked for her “big girl potty treat”. What a stinking weasel!
The best part was when she was running around afterward, she had toilet lines on her bare booty that were really thin from the rim of the trash can.
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