“Please… Please… Pretty Please! I’ll be your friend.”
I admit I’ve said this to my 28-month-old daughter, Emily, as she sat playfully on her potty, supposedly trying to “pee-pee”.
I know she already went, because her diaper is warm and squishy, which leads me to ask myself, did she pee before or after I told her it was potty time?
If she peed before, I just missed the boat and the fault is on me, but if she peed when I told her it was time to go, it was either automatic upon hearing the word “pee”, or she did it to derail my goals of successful potty training.
It crosses my mind as I tell her to “close her eyes and push that pee-pee out” – I need a potty whisperer, and I need one soon.
We have our supposed techniques. There’s a sticker wall in the bathroom with “pee-pee” stickers and large ones for “pooping”.
We overly congratulate her for trying, and are ecstatic when she does so successfully. I find the whole concept laughable.
Imagine if we continued to do this as adults.
Large men high-fiving each other at the urinals in the bar, laughing at all the stickers they have. Or women in their perspective stalls proclaiming that they pooped, to a chorus of woots and “That a girl”.
With that kind of fanfare we’d never leave the restroom.
Even with all the glory of stickers and endless support, Emily seems determined not to join the folds of humanity’s waste removal system.
I know this because, for a while, I made it my goal to get her to tell me when she had to go in order to finish the job on the potty. In one instance when I heard her “toot” I asked, “Emily do you have to go potty?”
She firmly said, “No, Daddy” and ran off down the hall toward our bedroom.
I didn’t think anything of it until five minutes had passed and there was absolute silence down the hall. When I hear the sound of silence in regard to my daughter, something is amiss.
I ended up finding her lurking in the darkness of my closet and man, did it stink! Emily chose to hide and defecate rather than use the potty. Talk about deflating my parenting skills.
I don’t blame her. Why would she want to climb up on a large, cold, ceramic chair to conduct her business, when she has all the conveniences of her diaper?
She can watch TV, have a snack, or play with her doll house while fertilizing herself. Talk about multitasking! And the best part… she doesn’t have to lift a finger to clean.
How many of us would wear a diaper if we knew 15-foot giants would pick us up, set us on a table and clean our butts?
I’m sure Pampers would be laughing all the way to the bank.
So, when and how does a little one decide that they’re grown up enough to use the toilet?
I imagine many of you reading this have many techniques and suggestions to offer.
My wife told me a friend of hers said to leave Emily without diapers for 24 hours, keep a watchful eye on her and try to get her on the potty.
To which I replied, “If she pooped on the floor I’d have to rub her nose in it.” My wife was not impressed.
To me, this whole-heartedly proves that poopin’ ain’t easy.