Potty training is the pits. I have just come out of the shit and piss zone that is training a mini human to dump and urinate into a bowl and I feel like a bloody hero for getting through to the other side.
My first son was two when he was fully trained. He crapped on the crapper once, cried and then never had another accident.
My second son would happily play with heavy poo-laden pants for hours on end.
I potty trained both my kids over summer, which is hands down the best time to do it. They can roam nappy and jock-free and if accidents happen outside, you just hose that mess away.
Because my second son, Arlo, took a little longer to train, the cabin fever got a little unbearable so we would pop undies on his tiny toosh and wherever we went, the potty would come too. If we would visit someone, the potty came for the arvo too; if we went for a walk to the park we would pop that Ikea potty under the pram and take it will us as well.
I would receive knowing and supportive looks and giggles from fellow parents although I felt bloody ridiculous. Whipping that thing out next to the swing was a real low point. While other kids ran around playing tiggy and licking their icy poles, there I was encouraging a two-year-old to do “poo poo in the potty” which would be followed by big cheers and clapping so he felt awesome.
Potty training is tough and can be a lengthy and messy process that can keep you cooped up for fear of public pooping which no one likes, but we do have to draw the line somewhere – and I think we have found that line peeps.
On one of those mum forums a fellow mum posted this:
“Last night, having a meal at seven in a nice pub and a parent got their child to use the potty by their table, this isn’t normal, is it?!”
The lady who witnessed this went on to say that the mother had a liner inside the potty, so after the little boy had done a crapola, she tied the bag and went to find a bin.
“To make matters worse, the boy really did look old enough to be able to get to a toilet.”
What the actual fuck? This ain’t ok. A kid crapping in a potty at a park is one thing, but in a restaurant? NO WAY!
There, my friends, is the potty training line and it is fair to say it has been crossed.