Today I decided to bite the
bullet and potty train Screecher Creature No. 3. I am a firm believer in waiting until they
are 18 and having it done in a day, so I was going against my own instincts on
this one. He is only 2 years and 4 months,
a good 7 months younger than his older brothers when they were trained. And therein lay the problem methinks. That and a modicum of greed on my part. The
prospect of having only one in nappies by Christmas was extremely tempting if
only for my pocket, but just getting the whole sorry, messy business out of the
way was also a good incentive.
He had been showing eager for
a while and I was reminded of this “window” people liked to mention and,
terrified that I was going to miss it, I decided to forge ahead. Our boy had already used the toilet a couple
of times and regularly tells me when he is “going” so I felt he was ready.
We spent a little bit of time
last evening telling the apprentice what was going to happen today. He was going to be the happy inheritor of 5
second hand Buzz Lightyear underpants and the baby was going to get the rest of
his nappies. How did that sound? It sounded better to him than it did to me, I
felt.
Before I went to bed I dug out
all the old and bobbly tracksuit bottoms I could find. These were in storage for the sole purpose of
the job in hand. They were also hand me
downs from the 6 year old. I made a
promise in my head, that one day, I would buy the two year old and the baby
something brand new that they could call their very own. Even the potty is so old, the once blue
plastic seat has faded to white.
So day one in the Potty
Training House dawned bright and frosty.
There was a bit of cheating from the outset. I am in possession of an item called The
Piddle Pad. It is a dimpled piece of
seating that you place on the car seat in under the potty trainee and it
absorbs any accidents. But after the
school run on a morning such as this, I like to go for a cup of coffee and a scone
before I go home. It is essentially my
breakfast. And I was not risking an
accident or two in the café so Screecher Creature No. 3 was kitted out in a
pull ups. It was coming off as soon as
we got home and the training would begin in earnest.
And so it began. In much the same vein as it was for the other
boys, the mantra’s of the morning were, “do you want to see if you have wee’s
for the potty?” and “if you do wee’s in the potty, I’ll give you a treat.”
His were, “No,” and “No.” Just to change the record a bit, he also said
with alarming regularity, “wee’s on the floor” and “all wet, Mammy.
The laundry basket was full by
11am, my floor was so clean you could have eaten your dinner off it and I was
fast running out of tracksuit pants and lining up the pyjama bottoms.
Then it was time for his
afternoon nap and out came the pull ups again.
No resistance from Himself but there was plenty at 2pm when I wanted to
put him back into his “big boy pants.”
He wasn’t having any so I caved and left him to it.
There were no clothes
left. Definitely no patience left. I thought it best to call a halt to the day
before there was no child left.
I’ve changed my mind. I want a puppy. The mess would be less. It has to be.
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