While slaving over a hot stove the other day, my toddler called to me from the bathroom that she needed to go potty.
"Really?" I called back. "What do you need to do?" And kept on cooking. Generally speaking, if someone tells me they need to go potty, it probably has more to do with looking at the potty than needing to pee in it or possibly competitiveness (if say, her older brother has just peed), or jealousy (if I have just peed), and precious little to do with the bladder.
When I finished up my kitchen tasks, I headed to the bathroom. I found, in this order: my daughter standing on the stool, washing her hands. Pee, in the little potty. A diaper, lying on the floor. Then I went back to my daughter and pulled her pants down. No diaper there.
Like a good detective I put all the pieces together. My not even two-year old child went into the bathroom, took off her own button-down jacket and button overalls, removed her diaper, sat on the potty, PEED in it, pulled her pants back up and preceded to wash her hands.
Well, clearly, I'm not needed any longer except for cooking. I have successfully raised my children. Which leaves me quite a bit of time to finish raising myself. A good thing as I seem to need it.
(On the flip-side, I may be needed for the other variety of diaper change. As my daughter pointed out to me while I was cleaning up her messy backside.
"No work, Mama," she said, when I told her the following morning the babysitter would be there for a few hours while I worked.
"Mama can't work? What should I do then?"
"Change my diaper," she said, with a smile on her face.)