The first sign…
Two weekends ago, we were in Surrey looking after Auntie Chatterbox and Little Miss’ favourite Uncle while the Other Half’s parents tended to family duties in Gloucestershire.
I did Little Miss’ usual bedtime around 7:30, while the OH manned the other two (though at nine and eleven, they don’t need ‘manning’ per say). When it came time for them to go to bed around 8/8:30, Little Miss still wasn’t asleep and started calling me. Eventually, I gave in and went to see what was the matter.
“Mummy, I’m wet,” she announced. And before I could even respond a simple, ‘oh,’ she pulled her nappy to the side and weed in the cot. I just stood there gawping, shocked. She’d never done anything like this before. When I finally came to my senses, I got her (and the cot) cleaned up and started bedtime again.
The day without a nappy by mistake…
A week later, (last weekend), she spent nearly the whole day with no diaper on in the garden playing in the paddling pool. All day, we kept saying she needed a diaper on if she went inside, did she need a wee wee, do not poo anywhere!
So of course, what did she do? She followed me into the galley at the end of the garden, I deposited the bin bag into the bin, turned around and headed back in the gate. I turned around to call Little Miss as I re-entered the garden to see her toddling behind me. And a massive poo on the path.
“What?! Did you do that Little Miss?!”
“Oh. Yes. That’s LM’s poo.”
“You did a poo?!”
“Yes. My poo… Mummy, you need to clean me.”
Great. I need to clean the path too…
And finally, we arrive at yesterday. Bedtime. It was unusually pleasant until she got out of the bath – at which point came the usual wrestle into a diaper, then the pjs saga. I reached for them, averting my gaze for what can only have been five seconds, and her diaper was gone.
“No diaper Mummy.”
“No LM, we need a diaper, please, it’s bedtime.” [Bracing self to resume the battle again.]
“No want it Mummy.”
“Oh. But it’s bedtime, you need a diaper.”
“No want it Mummy.”
And so it went for the next fifteen minutes until it ended with her in tears and me exasperated but victorious. I just wasn’t ready to start potty training during a Thursday bedtime. No, no, no.
So. Today. Friday… We’re going for it.
After last night’s bedtime fiasco, I put a call out on Facebook for potty-training tips, and amongst others, one friend messaged me a link to the Three Day Potty-Training Method.
Tonight, we stopped at the big Tesco Extra after nursery and let her choose her own knickers and a little toilet seat (another tip from the Facebook crowd).
The OH had told Little Miss we were going to get her a present from the shop, so she was very excited when they picked me up from the station. When we explained she got to choose her own big girl knickers, she immediately went for the boys’ section.
Little Miss showing Daddy her first choice of pants with trucks on.
She took a shine to a pair with trucks on, but they didn’t have her size. In fact, they barely had her size in any styles – boys or girls.
The OH was appalled, almost outraged, that at age two you had choose between girls’ and boys’ (Little Miss clothes shopping has been more my domain until this evening) and that all the girls’ options were pink, floral and utterly girly.
Seeing as Little Miss went straight for the trucks and ended up with a pair of boys’ dinosaur briefs, I think the case is there for F&F’s designers to brand out a little… (Luckily a close friend of mine is an F&F childrenswear designer so I’ll be passing in the feedback!) I digress…
Little Miss is all prepped for the morning, we’ve explained what’s going to happen. She keeps saying “I wear my knickers in the morning”. A couple of the kids at nursery are using the toilets/potty now so it’s not an alien concept (and I wondered if that’s why the sudden change of heart on her part).
But honestly, we’re utterly unprepared for this. We’ve done very little reading (hugely unlike the new-mum-me from two years ago!) and are sort of flying by the seat of our pants. Little Miss is leading the charge on this one. But we’re going for it anyway!
Safe to say, the OH, with his love of all things neat and tidy, is terrified. I’m a mixture of excited and terrified. I’ll keep you posted!
Read more from The Potty Training Diaries.
Let the games begin…