How am I STILL so crap at this potty training lark, THIRD time around? In my defence, it’s my first time ‘doing’ a boy. Here’s what I’ve learned so far:
Dazzling him with a variety of pants (like I once did his fashion conscious sisters) has done nothing to convince him this is a brilliant idea. He couldn’t care less whether he’s p***ing all over Superman or Batman.
Apparently, ‘Only girls use the toilet. Boys don’t.‘ His actual words. Which is kind of true in our house, given that he’s surrounded by females.
Being the third child means Mummy is far less consistent about the whole process. Forget the reward charts and bag of goodies for each wee, there is mention of a stale old chocolate biscuit if he does one. That Mummy then eats under the stress of it all.
After two hours of a COMPLETE lack of interest, Mummy caves and puts on a nappy. Because she doesn’t want to force him before he’s ready. (Official story: she wants to watch Mad Men).
Doing this the day after an 11 DAY half term holiday is stoopid.
Doing this at all is stoopid.
Listening to his sisters giving him tips whilst gyrating their hips wildly, showing him how to ‘shake it off’ further convinces you that this is something Daddy should be undertaking. Because now he’s just utterly confused. Do we want him to do a wee or a Taylor Swift routine?
Then, just when I’ve resolved to try again in two to three years (five), he takes himself off, sits on the potty and does a wee.
And it turns out that all he actually needed was a giant sword.