We are still failing all efforts to potty train Evan. Every single person in the family is participating in the encouragement and every single person is participating in the hazmat cleanup. How is it that this little person can’t make it to the bathroom, but CAN make it to the play kitchen sink? Repeatedly. Why do I even bother putting out underpants for him to wear when he constantly manages to find a pair of build-a-bear undies to wear? Backwards build-a-bear undies. “These fit me.” I should just dress the boy in a kilt and give him a bed of straw on his bedroom floor. Maybe in the spring he’d be inspired to use the potty consistently if Doug built an outhouse. Outside.