Gaz has her first Barbie. She's stripping her as I type, of course. I don't think we've got a clothed doll in the house. And already she's planning Barbie's first haircut ("Your hair is too long! It goes all the way to your butt!")
This is a good thing: An evil sorceress put a spell on Barbie so that she could only be released from her cardboard and plastic prison if a certain girl pooped in the potty. It only took months for this fairy tale to reach its conclusion.
But actually the doll was not the prime motivator. She kept asking for a diaper and we told her that she could have one if she sat on the toilet for ten minutes. I guess all it took was a little conveniently timed boredom.
I'm unbelievably excited at the prospect of not having to change diapers much longer. It's about damn time.