We went to MOPS this morning.

(It was the special Easter Tea.  I gave my testimony.)

Olivia wore underwear.  Just like she did when she went to church on Sunday.  There was no incident on Sunday.  I thought we were making progress.

That’s what I get for thinking.

When I went to pick her up, I asked if she had gone to the bathroom.

Wait, rewind.  When I dropped her off, I told the worker that she was in underwear because we’re potty training.  The worker asked if Olivia would tell her when she needed to go to the bathroom.

I averted my eyes and mumbled, “No…”

The worker then inquired as to whether Olivia would at least answer if asked if she had to use the bathroom.

I really hated to answer that question.  I mean, this poor girl is watching a dozen toddlers, all of whom are potty training.  But no.  No, Poor Nursery Worker, Olivia will lie to your face.  She will tell you she does not have to go to the bathroom.  And then she will pee her pants.

So I went back after MOPS to pick Olivia up.  I asked if she had gone to the bathroom.  The worker responded, “Well, she went to the bathroom.  And she sat on the toilet.  But she didn’t really go.

“Oh.  Well, she probably has to go now then.  I’ll take her right away.”

And I picked her up.  And felt the wetness.

Sigh.

So we went to the bathroom, took off her shoes, tights, bloomers, and underwear.  She went potty.  (Yay!)  We put on new underwear, new tights, and [old] shoes.  No more bloomers.

She was really upset about the lack of bloomers.  They were blue.

“Blue!  Blue!”

“No, sweetheart, we can’t wear Blue.  You peed on Blue.”

Blue!  Blue!!

“No, Baby, remember, you peed on Blue.

(My vocabulary as a parent just astounds the teacher in me.)

She eventually gets over Blue.

Next stop:  CVS.  Midway through our shopping trip, we take a detour to the bathroom.  She tells me she doesn’t have to go.  I make her sit anyway.  She doesn’t go.  At least she’s honest.

Or so I think.

That’s what I get for thinking.

When I picked her up to put her in her carseat a little while later, I felt the wetness.

Sigh

So I took off her shoes, tights, and underwear.  I put on new underwear and her [old] shoes.  No more tights.  By this time, she’s not only used to going without articles of clothing, she’s downright excited about it.  She was ready to get in the car without underwear.

One more stop.  Walgreen’s.

(Oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please.)

(I have no more underwear in my diaper bag.)

Halfway through our trip, we stop by the bathroom.

AND SHE GOES.  SHE GOES IN THE POTTY.

And when I picked her up to put her in her carseat?

DRY.

SWEET DRYNESS.

But while some would call this progress, I tend to lean more towards an answer to a desperate parent’s prayer.