My Potty Mouth

I've officially fallen off the coolness wagon. I'm over the deep end. I've lost my way. Yes, 'potty' has officially entered my vocabulary.

I wish I could have seen my face as the word effortlessly fell off my tongue. My mind wondered if it could actually betray itself in such a manner. After all, I've despised this word for years. And every time I'd hear another mother say 'potty' I'd nearly break out in hives.

This morning as Preston was playing in his Exersaucer, I looked him straight in the eye and said, "Mommy will be right back. She has to go POTTY." What the hell is wrong with me?

Any good parent knows that it would be inappropriate to teach their child to call the toilet 'the shitter' or 'the can'. But we aren't even at that stage. Preston doesn't know what I'm saying, so why would I ever utter the word? That hideous word.

The only logical thing to do is reprogram my brain and replace 'potty' with 'the throne'. I can picture it now...Preston in preschool...raising his tiny hand and asking..."May I go to the throne?"