Potty dotty…

Potty training sucks.

Seriously, it’s one of the least enjoyable things about owning a toddler (as well as the lack of sleep, epic tantrums and physical violence towards mummy…wow, I’m really selling this aren’t I?!)

My first boy actually potty trained himself at 2yrs 3months. He just knew what to do, with very little help or fuss, and got on with it.

My second boy struggled somewhat, but he did also have a speech delay to contend with so couldn’t tell me what was going on. We tried at 2yrs 4months but that went so badly it was abandoned within 4 days because my sofa, and my sanity, couldn’t take anymore. We then tired again at 2yrs 9months and it was a success. There’s a lot to be said for not rushing them and “when they’re ready, they’re ready”.

Now onto number 3. Well, God knows what I’m going to do with this one.

   For some reason, number 3 has shown an interest in the potty and pulling his nappy off for about 3 months now. He’s either exhibiting the signs of wanting to potty train, or he just loves being naked. I’d hazard a guess it’s the latter, but just in case I’ve missed something (due to being exhausted and forgetting after 5 years what I have to do with this potty training malarkey) I decide to try training him. He’s only 22 months old, yes, I think I’ve lost the plot too, but maybe I have an intelligent one on my hands… (Hahahahaha!!!!! Intelligent one, I’m such a joker).
We get back from a play date at a friends and the toddler decides he wants his nappy off.

“Oh god, okay” I think to myself. “What is the worst that can happen…? We have wooden floors so if he pees (or worse) everywhere, it can be cleaned easily. Let’s have a go…”

I take his nappy off and put the potty, pride of place, in front of the TV and Mr Tumble (well, how else are you going to get them to sit on their plastic throne for more than 5 seconds?! Whatever works I say…)

“Ben, this is your Thomas potty isn’t it!” I say enthusiastically.

“Yeah! Wee wee!” Is the reply I get.

“That’s right Ben!! Wee, wee! We do a wee on Thomas!” I exclaim (looking back, this was a piss poor choice of wording…Thomas doesn’t want to be pissed on, but the potty does. I’m making this far more complicated already).

He sits on the potty all proudly and points down and says, “wee wee!”. He hasn’t done anything but he’s getting the jist and I’m over the moon. He at least seemed to be understanding the basics of what we are trying to do here and that’s half the battle…or so I assume. And that my friends is where i went wrong. I ASSUMED. With regards to a TODDLER. Never, ever, assume anything where a toddler is concerned. It will come back and bite you on the posterior. I should know this by now and I’m utterly ashamed of myself (*wish I been told off for being so silly and sent to my room for bad behaviour…god how I’d love that!*)

Before I even knew what was happening, the toddler woke from his TV and Potty sitting coma, dived behind me on the sofa  all bear bottomed and free…and laughed.

I was about to spin around to pick him up and, in that moment, felt a warm sensation up my back, down my trousers, on my pants and the sofa. “Now”, I think to myself, “I’ve either had a very embarrassing moment or, my toddler has just peed all over my back, bum and sofa”.

I guess, in a way, it’s a good thing that it was the latter, but I’m pretty furious once it dawns on me that I’ve just been pissed on by my toddler. Who is still laughing.

“Wee, wee!!” he shouts happily.

“Yes Ben, wee wee. Well done. But we should have done that on choo choo potty shouldn’t we…” (Hold in the anger…hold it in).

I grab the tinkle toddler and put a nappy on him and then survey the damage.

I need a new top on, new jeans on, new pants on, and a shower. Plus the sofa needs cleaning and drying (and basically would be better off being incinerated but then we’d have nothing to sit on). Marvelous.


I then glance at my watch and it’s 2:50pm. I have to leave for the school run in 10 minutes and the toddler is still giggling his head off over his latest exploits whilst in only his nappy and I’m in a piss covered rage. This is not how potty training is supposed to go. Or my life. This is not how I imagined things at all. I DEMAND A REFUND!!!!!

I somehow manage to get showered, changed and de-piddled, and the toddler into some clothes and a coat in 10 minutes (with the help of a few bloody hells and FFS’s).

So I’ve concluded that number 3 is not ready for potty training yet. And neither am I. My nerves and my sofa can’t take it at the moment and he’s clearly not quite got the jist of the whole shebang.

I think we will wait until the warmer weather comes and he can live naked and free outside with the pesky Garden Ninja (squirrel if you haven’t read the previous post Squirrel Wars) and piddle away to his hearts content…

 

“Look mummy! Its a hat!” – luckily it contained no pee/poo…

 

“Where am I mummy?!” – Sadly poppet youre right in front of me with your potty on your face. Hopefully this isnt a fetish thing and its just a phase…

 

Life Love and Dirty Dishes