Over a week ago, I bought a potty seat for Liv that has pictures of Disney princesses on it. I also purchased a package of underwear with 7 pairs inside…one for each princess. I held on to my potty-training arsenal, giving Liv and myself a break with plans to whip out the goods this week, causing my daughter to shriek in delight and immediately shun all things diaper-related.

Well that was the plan until Sunday rolled around. I brought her new seat upstairs and she carried it around the house and even asked to use it. Score. She’d already seen the underpants because I had washed them and put them in her drawer, but she seemed pretty anxious for the chance to wear them. I told her that they were off limits until she started using the big potty (because everyone needs a little incentive). I noticed that she only had about 4 pull-ups in her cupboard so I made a note to pick up more at the store. And this is where the plan begins to unravel.

I got home on Sunday evening and opened the new box of pull-ups to find that they re-designed them. Inside were pink, over-priced diapers that had Cinderella, Ariel and Snow White on them with butterflies, flowers and hearts. Liv was beyond thrilled at the change. The novelty of her current purple, over-priced diapers that had Cinderella, Ariel and Jasmine on them with flowers and no hearts or butterflies had worn off. These training pants trumped everything. I was pissed.

Then I realized the genius that is Kimberly-Clark and Huggies. They don’t want your kid to move on to underwear. Diapers are money. They would love it if we all went crazy astronaut and started strapping on adult diapers for our long morning commutes, weekend road-trips and all night drinking binges. I’m not falling prey to their marketing tactics (okay…I’ve already fallen prey, but dammit I’m doing something about it). I’m going to go out and find the plainest, simplest, ugliest pair of training pants for my “everything must be pink and pretty” daughter. Then I’m going to dangle her adorable Ariel underpants in front of her and hope that she goes for the carrot.

Take that, Kimberly. And you too, Clark.