Toilet Training

Ah, the joys and fun of potty-training.

Great memories, yeah?

Nah, not so much for me either.

Day care trained my eldest daughter whilst I was away at work, oblivious, and happily teaching critical thinking, and sometimes literature, grammar, and writing, to middle school students.

My eldest, for the most part, trained her two sisters. I really cannot take much of the credit. She was amazing at it. I don’t think it took more than a couple days of diligence, along with some M&M’s and bubble gum.

And then there is Alex. The Boy. Boys are different, they say.

Over these last few months, I have read numerous articles and blog posts about potty-training. I’ve pinned some brilliant wisdom on how to boot-camp potty-train toddlers in one day with stickers, candy, junk food, Kool-Aid, nudity, running around and cheering, and pretending with dolls and teddy bears.

One blogger had this nugget which I do agree with whole-heartedly (paraphrased): “Readiness and interest are not the same things. Don’t wait for the child to be ready. Wait for signs of readiness, but make sure it’s before age 3 or he’ll get set in his ways. Then it’s harder.” All this sums up what I now know.

The children don’t necessarily need “training.” The parents are being trained to be absolute clowns.

I thought it was high time that Alex quit wearing Pull-Ups and used the toilet. He turns 3 on April 1.

We experienced fierce resistance. Alex had no desire whatsoever to transition to “big boy” status. When we put the idea to him, he gave an adamant “No.” He did not want to use The Bathroom, The Toilet, The Potty, or any other allusion to That Place under any circumstances. There were tantrums if we even suggested it.

He completely intellectually understood the concept of urinating into a toilet. He had watched me, his father, and all three sisters use the toilet numerous times in almost three years. He “got” it. He could tell anyone who asked where certain bodily functions should take place: The Bathroom. The Toilet. Not The Pants.

But he refused.

When questioned why he wouldn’t use The Toilet…His epic answer: “Cuz I said: I don’t want to.”

And there you have it.

The Bathroom was enemy territory.

I persevered. I had packs and packs of cute and colorful boy underwear at the ready. He liked those and didn’t want to wear Pull-Ups anymore. But he wouldn’t use The Toilet.

For several weeks (my husband claims an entire month of the ordeal – and it feels like years), Alex just wet himself.

It was like having a puppy.

A puppy who wore Diego and Cars underpants and swishy pants who needed changing 10 times a day. And lots of Kids n Pets carpet cleaner. That created lots of extra laundry.

We have a little plastic Cars toilet seat that’s toddler-butt-sized and fits over a standard toilet seat. We even bought a plastic stand alone urinal.

Yes, you read that right.

It remains unused and is now rather dusty.

We got over the tantrums about The Toilet sometime last week. We have 4 bathrooms. He would only consider using the one near the kitchen. We placed his Cars toilet seat in there. He would occasionally acquiesce and sit on the thing and even released an occasional drop of urine to appease us – or fool us.

Then five minutes later, he would be standing in a puddle. On carpet.

Not even the quip of “Pants are a privilege!” prevailed. Can’t imagine where he gets that stubborn streak…{whistling and looking away}

At about the time his sisters, his father, and I were at our wits’ end…and I was ready to give up and just go back to Pull-Ups, something just “clicked.”

He was playing on the floor in the basement Monday evening and he just looked up at me. He said, very calmly, “I gotta go pee.”

I looked at his father and we both jumped up lightning fast (which we regretted later, being old and decrepit) and rushed Alex excitedly upstairs to where The Toilet was.

Magic.

And there has not been a single accident since. He even woke up this morning at 6:41, dry, and needing to run to The Toilet.

Thank You, God, I say.

Now, #2 is a whole different story.