"You have to be proactive about potty-training your toddler," all the books say. "There may be one child in a thousand who spontaneously potty-trains themselves, but the vast majority need prodding. In a loving way. Clear your calendar for a week or two, take a three day weekend for the initial hard bit, and just do it."

We've been thinking about this for a while, and it's turning out surprisingly difficult to clear our calendar for a weekend. Christina's mom is coming to visit one weekend; my uncle is flying in the next. Then it's my father-in-law's birthday. Then there's a huge school project for Christina. We're starting to feel the pressure to potty-train, and we haven't yet summoned the willpower to just do it.

That doesn't bother Olive in the slightest, who's started getting proactive about potty-training herself¹. In the last week, on separate occasions, she's both peed and pooped in her little potty. We're not pressuring her in any way about this; we're barely encouraging her! But of her own volition, she's decided that this is the way of the future. I don't want to make any claims yet, given that she's still full-time in diapers. Still, this feels like a kid who might be the one in a thousand who takes the initiative.

She's growing so much recently: her vocabulary, her capabilities, her physical body. It's hard to get an accurate measurement of her; for that, she'd need to stand tall and still for upwards of 10 seconds! Even so, we're fairly confident that she's two centimeters taller than she was a month ago, on her birthday.

This evening, after her bath, I was chasing her around the house in play, trying to tell her that she should put on a diaper. She wasn't having it: "No!", she shouted, and ran into her room and slammed the door shut. Ten silent seconds later, the handle of the door creeped down, and she opened it. Looked at me. Said again "No!", and then slammed the door again.

Two weeks ago, she couldn't reach the door handles. Today, for the first time, she demonstrated that she can open the doors in our house. It's magical! I love it. She does too: she opened and closed that door half a dozen times, cementing the technique.

There are any number of skills like this. She's not quite there yet, for example, with throwing a ball: she looks at you, yells "ready!", and then throws the ball vertically into the air, ducking her head against the chance that it'll fall back onto her head. It does so surprisingly often. One day in the near future, though, it won't: she'll suddenly figure out the trick of releasing when the motion of the ball points more at its intended target, and then she'll be able to throw. These skills are coming in almost as quickly as her vocabulary is.

Back when she was an infant, I looked forward to her toddlerhood, because I imagined it would be more fun. I was absolutely right: toddlerhood is great! And I'm looking forward again; I can't wait to know what it'll be like when she's a child and can really converse.