potty training: a blessing and a curse

having a potty-trained baby is wonderful in so many ways. no more spending dollars and dollars and dollars on diapers and wipes. no more feeling guilty for polluting the earth with those nasty wads of plastic, chemicals, and poopoo, tidily wrapped in an unrecyclable plastic bag. no more wiping the stinky poops off that tiny heiny. it is truly a blessing.

until... on a road trip, on an isolated road in eastern arizona, you hear a tiny voice in the backseat call out, "mommy, i need to do peeps on the potty. i need to go really bad."

and you say okay, baby, we're going to look for a good spot. it's going to be just a minute, okay?

and you watch the road. there are a few campsites, but really this is a very remote part of the state. in 138 miles you have crossed exactly two cars and have come upon only one truck heading the same direction as you are -- and that guy was camping. because really that's all there is to do out here. so you watch the road, look at the pullouts, try to find a nice clean fallen log somewhere you can hang those buns off of so she can peep but still kind of feel like she's on a potty, and hopefully not get any of those peeps on her clothes or your shoes.

then you find a nice pulloff with a scenic view. a little drive that goes behind a big rock and offers that tiny heiny some privacy from... well, the empty road behind. a beautiful vista on the mountain where you can look out for miles and see where the forest meets the desert. a breathtaking stop where you can watch the sunset and marvel at nature's beauty. a wild place where game and fish is... reintroducing wolves to the area? what? and there's a lovely trail you can walk down, with a million kinds of wildflowers growing across the steps because it's so remote and so wild that probably a person hasn't set foot here in at least eight months. and probably there's a mountain lion watching you right now, waiting for that baby to get three steps in front of you so she can pounce.

come on, baby, let's go back up here where it's a little safer. wait, what's that? a little house? a little outhouse? a little potty for my baby's tushy?

and it's gross and stinky, and there are lots of flies, and the sign asks you to please put the seat down and close the door when you're done (presumably so the wolves and mountain lions won't come in), but it's a potty. it's a potty, and your baby is relieved.

but that's when a diaper might have been nice.