Potty Parade

I have three newly potty-trained girls here:
The picture is deceiving:
1) My window is not always so clean; I washed it last night. (Clearly, vanilla is an overrated flavor; Windex is the favorite around here. Okay, Windex mingled with whatever flavor the last person left when they licked it.)
2) The don't always get along so cosily–most often when the potty is involved. There is a surprising amount of competitiveness in toddlers when it comes to bodily functions.
If one of them says, "I need to go potty!" then invariably, they all race to see who can get there first–whether they actually need to go or not. This results in mass migration to the toilet every ten minutes or so, all day–because after all, do you know anyone brave enough to call the bluff of a newly-potty-trained two-year-old? Really? You're going to say to them, "No, you don't need to go potty, you just went, ten minutes ago."? These are critters than frequently void in very small increments, and everyone knows this. 
So after some reminders to be kind to our friends and take turns, they all line up to do their business. 
The one in the pink pants is the genuine article. She rarely comes up empty. She was the first trained, and the most engaged in the process; she names her little plops after members of her family ("Look, that one's Daddy, and that one's Mommy and there's Grandpa–he looks angry.") She also likes to strum the side of the toilet and sing Taylor Swift for all the world like she's on the stage of the Grand Ole Opry.
The munchkin in the middle is the most verbose. "The pee is coming out. Now it's all done. It sounds funny." She's such a little thing it feels strange to lift her onto the toilet. I think I've got a one-year-old who outwieghs her by almost twenty pounds. 
The youngest, the wiry one on the right, originally took a turn on the throne because everyone else was, probably, and occasionally something happened and that seemed to be  worth celebrating. This is the first week that she has initiated the mass migration herself, even in the midst of a more interesting activity, and actually had to go. Yay! And I say that whole-heartedly–you have no idea what kind of diapers this girl could produce. She could also climb to the top of my fridge in about three heartbeats and escape her crib before her first birthday.

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