“Embrace the poo,” my brother advised. Well, I have. Literally. Toilet training has begun.
We’d ummed and ahhed over starting the messy affair, and we finally took the plunge last week. The books talk about signs of readiness, ways to approach it and reward systems. I’m thinking about the cost and inconvenience of nappies, and simply wanting to pass through this stage as quickly as possible.
The inconsistency is infuriating. Just when we think he’s got it, we leap backwards – refusal to sit on the potty, opting instead to stand right beside the potty and relieve himself. Why? Why? Why? He doesn’t answer.
Interspersed within the frustration is the hilarity of it all. Especially the little jig that he now does when he feels a wee or poo coming and doesn’t want to a) do it in his ‘big boy’ undies or b) do it on the potty/toilet (which really doesn’t leave many options, does it?). It’s all tippy toes, pirouettes and contorted faces. I know I shouldn’t laugh, but it is seriously one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. I shamefully videoed the latest dance.
And so we plow ahead, laden with super absorbent towel, disinfectant and mops (no gloves – no time for such matters of hygiene and infection control). Really looking forward to our week away!
