A Simple Turd. That's All We Ask.

After finally realizing that our daughter's vehement refusal to sit on a toilet was all due to the fact that she thought she'd fall in [like Nemo...according to her] we presented her with her own personal potty chair.  Yes, we bought one a long time ago with the delusion that hopes she'd actually try it out, but, it took no time at all before she shunned its intended use and turned it in to an above-ground pool for Barbie and her ilk.  Now, with a little age under her elastic band, we ponied up and picked up another one. 

Truth be told, I'm not looking forward to the initial stages of this new phase, but, I'm intelligent enough to understand that my ass wiping days will soon be over - well...at least the days of wiping her ass will soon be over.  I still have a few years left on me.  Anyway...

What we're experimenting with now - at her request - is the location at which said potty chair will end up.  Basically, the chair is feral until such time our daughter finds a room she's comfortable taking a dump in.  I know, it sounds weird to read that, but, that's the reality.  It's been in the default bathroom location as well as her bedroom, our bedroom, the garage, next to the picnic table and, as shown, the living room.  Still no luck.  All we're really getting is a squat, a grunt and the subsequent "It's not working, Daddy," which is shortly followed by a crap or pee in the old Dora diaper.  We're optimistic, though (read as: "this better fucking work this time!").   We're just feeling a bit of a time crunch.  All the other kids we know that are near her age have already moved on.

By the way, at this point, if we maintain all promises and bribes we've been using to get her to go, she'll own the world on her first shit.  Maybe she's having a little performance anxiety.