Me teaching her that she could go potty in the ocean if it meant that my pregnant self did not have to walk her back to the beach house every time she needed to go.
(So, who is holding onto my mother of the year trophy for me, again?)
And that, my friends, is how my darling husband ended up spending our first two days back at home trying to brainwash our daughter into thinking her favorite part of our trip was 'finding seashells', because we weren't sure what the preschool teacher would think of us teaching our kid to go potty in the ocean, in the event she happened to ask Brigid the very specific 'what was your favorite part of the ocean?' question.
(Wrong. Still, I don't think it would have come up. So, we're fine...for now. I wouldn't put it past Brigid to bring it up completely out of the blue a month from now, though. She's sneaky like that...)