We kicked the can down the road (in the middle of a cross-country move and house-hunt, as well as medical stuff at ages 18-24 mo) and I can tell you that doing it eight months later was an EPIC power struggle.

I wound up with a kid that found it amusing to make Mom clean for her. Because she and I both knew I didn't need to, and she knew that I resented it (because honestly, I did have plenty of other things on my plate at the time). She was more than physiologically ready-- she had passed the point of caring much, and that was the problem. We hadn't responded to HER innate readiness, and then it was about OUR desire, not hers. It was her way of giving us her own special one-fingered salute. I should have known then, actually... the day that she laughed like a maniac after urinating on my sofa-- DELIBERATELY (no, trust me on this one-- I had JUST asked her if she might need to go and she had sharply informed me that this was none of my business)-- and then telling me to "clean it up!"

(Yeah, incoherent phone call to my spouse at work over that one so that I could calm down... with DD still cackling maniacally in the background, quite pleased with herself.)

Toileting... not one of my finer parenting memories or moments. That was the first time I ever went head to head with Cool Hand Luke, there. It was stunning.


Schrödinger's cat walks into a bar. And doesn't.