Eleanor peed her pants today.
Her last accident was ages ago, but she’s decided that she hates using the potty at preschool. They don’t help her there with the wiping, and she doesn’t really get herself as clean as one would hope. So, she holds it till she gets home. Today, not so much. She went onto the front porch to watch the guy next door use a leaf blower. A minute later she’s SCREAMING, “I gotta go potty-potty!!! NOW. The door is stuck. I GOTTA GO. POTTY-POTTY!!!”
By the time I got the front door unlocked and open (and I was running), she was standing in her own little puddle on the front porch.
“Did you pee your pants?” I ask.
“No.” Uh-huh. Riiiiight.
“So what’s around your feet then?”
“Yes.” She sadly says. Busted. She was feeling pretty ashamed of herself, and probably a little squishy. Then Eleanor smiles up at me and happily asks “Can I make footprints?”