Prepare to be impressed.

This boy

doesn't need diapers anymore. 
 
Now, now, I can't take all the credit.  He was ready (you can't toilet train a child till he's ready).

On the other hand, who was it that followed him around the house watching him like a hawk and doing nothing else for hour after boring hour?  And who said "Oh well, maybe next time" six billion times after he had accidents?  And who had to keep her countenance cheerful and encouraging while encountering strenuous resistance to the idea of "practicing" any more times?  And who had to maintain constant mental/emotional vigilance in order to hear any verbal cues faintly resembling the words "go bathroom" "dirty diaper" "toilet" etc.?  And who had to leap up to provide assistance while either a.) continuing to nurse a baby [difficult, but not impossible] or b.) extracting baby, mid-suck, from the breast and depositing her unceremoniously on the floor, thus inviting aforementioned baby's extremely vocal dispproval and/or bereavement? And who found herself repeating "do you still have dry underpants?" in her sleep?

Me.  That's who.  So go ahead and be impressed with me, too.

The mental vigilance is still needed (for occasional reminders), but the emotional vigilance (for remaining cheerful and positive after accidents, against all natural inclination) has become mostly unnecessary.  Hooray!

Or, as Malachi would and does say,
OO-WAY!