Potty Training is a Bunch of Crap
Yes, that’s an iPhone. She takes after her dad. |
We have two weeks (maybe
less) to hopefully finish potty training The Duchess before baby number two gets here. After that I’m on my own. Stevie
will be preoccupied with healing from surgery and feeding The Captain and all potty
training duties will fall to me. This is not a skill I possess.
This is my impression of
me potty training my daughter:
“Do you need to go
potty?” “Do you need to go potty?” “Do you need to go
potty?” “Do you need to go potty?” “Do you need to go
potty?” “Do you need to go potty?” “Do you need to go
potty?” “Do you need to go potty?” “Do you need to go
potty?” “Do you need to go potty?” (Look away for five seconds)
OH NOOOOO!!!
I don’t actually yell at
her. To a two-year-old, I’m sure I’m kind of scary when I yell, and the last
thing I want to do is make her poop more. I just don’t know what I am doing
wrong.
She is almost there. We
send her to day care without diapers – just an extra pair of pants in case of accidents. Most days she
comes home wearing the same pants we dropped her off in. Her teacher tells me
how smart she is and how she had 0 accidents. I tell her teacher that she must
be some sort of crazy magic baby whisperer to achieve such success, because before we even get home
The Duchess will have somehow bent space and time and already peed all over
the living room floor.
My wife is a potty training genie too. Here is my impression of her potty training the Duchess:
“Duchess, do you
need to go potty?”
“Yes, mommy I do.
Please excuse me while I pull my own pants down and do it all by myself without getting
any poop all over myself, the toilet or you… OK I’m done now AND I’ve washed my
hands. Would you also like a back rub?”
Sigh…
Like I said, soon
enough my wife is out of the equation. Then it is is just me, The Duchess and the
poor poison control operator who has to listen to my questions on what I should
do after somehow getting poop in my eye. IN MY EYE!
So I turn to you dear
readers. What am I doing wrong? Is it me? Why will she go for Mom and Ms. Lupe,
but “Daddy-Daughter time” has become “Let’s-Ruin-The-Carpet time”?
Here’s my process (which
is the same as the daycare and my wife’s process)
- Take her to the toilet
every ten minutes. - Talk about potty ALL OF
THE TIME (seriously, it’s all we talk about) - Celebrate success. (I
basically act as if she’s been accepted to Harvard every time there’s even a
drop in the trainer.) - Give encouragement when
mistakes happen. (I don’t get mad. I explain that poop goes in the potty, not
on the couch and gently carry her to the bathroom.) - We’ve also tried rewards
(Sticker Board, M&M’s) – but honestly, she gets a bigger kick out of
flushing the toilet.
Anyway, chime in with
critiques, advice, personal success and/or horror stories in the comments.
Love,
Dad
P.S. Just want to thank you all for the amazing response we received from the My Friend Liz post. We raised a ton of money (leaving out dollar amounts for privacy reasons). Just know that you all made a huge and wonderful difference for a family going through a really hard time. Our local ABC Affiliate even did a news story about it! So bravo. You all are the best readers a dad could ask for!!!