By Heather Cocks, REDBOOK
The other night after the boys' bath, we were diapering them when Liam decided to go ahead and urinate on his bedroom floor. "I missed!" he shouted, breaking into riotous applause. We are not sure what he thinks he missed. The potty? Unlikely, but accurate. The carpet? Unlikely and inaccurate. Our faces? His brother? Maybe I don't want to know, but it reminded me of the parenting milestone I have been dreading the most: potty-training. Two of them. Simultaneously. Twice the accidents, twice the cleanup, twice the headaches, and-not for nothing-twice the competition for the toilet. The constant battle as a twin parent is, what do I have to get two of, besides cribs and blankies and martinis? I deeply hope training potties are not one of those things, or else we might as well add a hand-dryer and an attendant who coughs gently in search of tips.
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Despite my assertions that Kevin should handle this, being a
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