Allow me to set the scene:
Interior – Day – Chez Delagrange – Everett sits enthroned upon his Thomas Potty. (See Fig. 1)
The potty plays the melodic notes of the Thomas theme song and ends with the tell-tale “chugga-choo-shhhh” sound that can only mean one thing – The “train” has left the “station.”
All around the boy there is great rejoicing…much like this:
We’re potty TRAINing, y’all. (See what I did there? I had to or my dad would have and then he’d think he was real clever and we can’t have that.)
A few words on the Thomas Potty…Ev got it as a Christmas gift and was genuinely so pumped about it that he couldn’t even handle it. This thing has magical sensors in it so when a liquid (or presumably a solid) hits it, it plays music and makes train sounds. If that doesn’t pump your pistons, I don’t know what will.
The only down side I can see to the Thomas Potty is that your average two-year-old can easily figure out how to take it apart and make it sing without peeing in it. You can say a lot of things about a two-year-old, but if you need a button to be pushed (literal or figurative) they’re pretty much your best bet. Unfortunately, the button on the Thomas Potty is on the bottom, which requires said two-year-old to turn it completely upside down, something that I sort of expect to backfire on my aaaaaaaannny minute now…
And, because motherhood is basically an eternal experiment in “Things I Never Thought I’d Say,” or because I know you’ve just been wishing that you could experience this craziness firsthand, but haven’t called because you’re not sure if you really want to experience this crazy firsthand, here are a few of the phrases I’ve been recently repeating over and over…and over.
- “Do NOT put your broccoli on your potty!”
- “Dude, if you keep moving your potty around you’re going to forget where you put it and nobody needs that!”
- “Guys, mind your own business! You really don’t need to see his pee.”
- “I know you’re trying to help, but let’s just let Mommy be the one to empty the potty.”
- “Drop. The. Potty. I said put it down!!”
Also, people have already asked about how we potty train and how the boy vs girl thing is going, here’s my two cents on that:
I am a hard and fast and firm believer that this is not a race. I do not know any 30 year olds who wear diapers to work. If your kid is toilet trained at 16 months old, cool! If your kid is toilet trained at 4, sweet! It will happen when your child is ready. I repeat: this. is. not. a. race. Follow your kid’s lead and you’ll be golden…probably literally.
Also, my friend Alisha just told me that her dentist’s wife potty trained their 9 month old. And we both basically said a big hell naw to that. I mean, if that’s your jam, it’s cool I guess. But I’m lazy and diapering a baby or even a toddler is a lot less work, at least for a while. You can slap a diaper on a kid or at least have stuff contained, right? Few things will prepare you for venturing out in the world with a newly toilet trained kid. You’re on their terms now and heaven help you if you dare to call their bluff or wait a moment too long. All I’m saying is, once you potty train, you’re signing up for the “Tour of Every Bathroom in America” whether you’ve got places to be or not. So, take your time. It’s not a race.
I am also a hard and fast believer in the “Naked Weekend” brand of potty training. I’m also realistic and know that it takes longer than a weekend. Regardless, I’ve had the most success with hunkering down for as long as possible with a pantless kid and a potty you can move from room to room with you. Also, you have to do a potty dance that is so explosively celebratory you can’t even handle your own face. That’s part of the fun. For more information on this brand ‘o training, check out Kendra’s post on it over at Catholic All Year. (I have an unprofessed blog crush on Kendra…her family just bought a 10 bedroom mansion built in the 20’s and they’re remodeling it and I’m obsessed and creepy and not sorry.)
As for the boy vs girl thing…it’s totally not a thing. I’ll admit, I was initially intimidated by potty training a boy, probably because of some societal tendency to deify the penis or just the fact that I don’t have one, so I’m sorta clueless. Here’s the deal: he’s got a while to figure it all out. The main goal here is to get the waste into the proper receptacle. Everything after that will come with time. So the thing’s not a thing. I’m potty training him just like the girls and he’s knocking it out of the park.
He’s knocking it out of the park so much, in fact, that I basically never have to remind him to pee. Like last night he was (ill-advisedly) naked and on the loose downstairs while I got the girls out of the tub. He ran back upstairs yelling, “Mama, I peeeeeeeeeeed!!!” at which point I panicked. I asked where he went to the bathroom and the only response I got was, “Don’t worry about it, Mama. I show you.” Umm…doesn’t really inspire much confidence. So I followed him downstairs and he lead me to the Thomas Potty and yelled, “Aaaaa-priiiise!! In the potty!! Ta da!!!” And sure enough, in the potty it was. Praise God from whom all blessings flow…and I do mean all blessings.