Where are those paper towels gone? Anyone seen the disinfectant spray? Ah feck, there’s another puddle over there. Yep. It’s toilet training time. Actually, forget the cleaning up gear, where’s the baby gone? Look at him there above; stretching up, helping himself to something, well able to fend for himself in the wild for all I know.
Of course, you know what the worst approach to any develpomental milestone is? Putting yourself and a child under pressure to get there. And what am I doing? Trying to impose a not-weeing-on-self deadline on the fourth and final human member of our household. Like an eejit (albeit, an eejit that kinda needs this to happen sooner rather than later)
Number one child trained a little earlier than this guy, and it took a while but he got it okay. We also had the invaluable support of a creche for some relief on the pooey underpants disposal front. Other than that I really can’t remember much about it because the current champion floor-piddler was only about six weeks old so there was a lot of embracing of chaos going on.
So why am I doing it differently this time round? Remember back then I said I was going to be a student soon? Well I am one now, and it’s getting harder to concentrate at the level I need to when I can only start studying late at night. I remember well my last stint in college; I watched a lot of MTV’s The Real World and This Morning With Richard Not Judy (look it up). Britney Spears had just burst onto the scene in her approximation of a school uniform and I used Telnet for a form of social media (shout out DCU’s Redbrick Society!). Somewhere amongst that and pints I got a degree also. Now the only thing standing in my way of time to study is an obstinate toddler and a load of Lightning McQueen underpants.
I have a place for him in a local Montessori pending potty training. Three glorious mornings where I can get shit done while he does his somewhere else. Sure I might even get a run or a sneaky haircut/latte/nap in if I get through my lectures.
Anyway, two days in, he’s doing okay. There’s been more misses than hits, but the kind of misses that happen halfway to the potty so the intent is there and that’s good. He hasn’t quite cracked the poo either; a look of shock crossed his face at his suddenly weighty pair of pants yesterday but today he shouted “What’s on my bum?” just before the main event. That’s progress right?
He seems quite pleased at all the attention he’s getting – chocolate buttons and high fives abound. I bought him fourteen new pairs of pants today to add to the just-in-case ones purchased optimistically six months ago. So I remain positive but realistic. Fingers crossed for me eh? A toddler’s bodily function control lies in between me and my future career. No pressure.