We started potty training our son in the fall. It began with the purchase of a small royal throne fit for a prince’s poo. It came with an added feature of playing a tinkle tune as a reward for successfully using the loo. The first time my son made the bowl sing he jumped up in excitement and ran through the house – all while continuing to pee.
Clorox would say it was one of “life’s bleachable moments.”
I soon realized that a boy learning to aim needed a bigger target. So we stopped using the tinkle tune throne and started placing our son directly on the big toilet facing the tank. I also started bribing him with hot wheels. Genius idea. My kitchen floor became a land mine of tiny cars, all parked perfectly at the ready to inflict excruciating pain on the bottom of your feet.
It’s possible my son has picked up a few choice words thanks to my inability to *bleep* my response.
We got to the point of having dry diapers for most of the day, so the hot wheels stopped. So did the potty use. Parenting fail.
In an effort to get potty training back on track, I recently purchased a new Lightning McQueen soft potty seat. I thought, “here’s a way to get my kid on the big potty, facing the right direction. It’s covered in Cars. He’s going to love it.”
And love it he does. In fact, as we placed the potty seat onto the toilet he proclaimed, “Mom I LOVE it. Let.me.hug.it.”
Parenthood. It’s a blast.
And so tonight we placed the new soft seat onto the toilet and sat the correct way on the potty. It lasted thirty seconds. What followed can only be described as the Cirque de Soleil of potty training. I’m a lucky, lucky lady for having a free, front row seat for this event.
First, he sat on the potty like any respectable person. Next, he informed me that “this just didn’t feel right,” and turned around. I sat and watched as he tried to figure out the proper way to move his body. Legs were twisted in knots as he maneuvered the rim of the seat. Within thirty seconds of getting situated, he once again began fidgeting. Apparently, Goldilocks wasn’t satisfied as he twisted his body around to be placed in a side seated position. Just imagine, if you can, a toddler with both hands and feet on the toilet seat, butt in the air, twisting around for the perfect position to $*&#.
I swear my dog takes less time getting situated.
Five minutes in, I decided to pull the plug. As I pulled my son off the potty, his tiny voice declared, “Terrible. Just terrible, Mom. This seat just wont do.”
.. and with that declaration I just smiled and nodded. We’ll try again tomorrow.