Potty Day

I failed to potty train the Atrain again today. I hate to say that he failed because that’s just mean, and he did try really hard. The poor guy has only known how to poop in his pants all his life. And here I am, expecting him to sit comfortably upon a little throne to do his business. The nerve.

I really thought today would be the day. He woke up excited to set up his potty training premises (obviously something we’ve done before). We pushed the table over to the corner, clearing more room on the tile for games, trains, puzzles, and oh yes, the potty. He even brought it out from the bathroom. Then he strapped on the “Mater bum” underwear. I constantly have to remind myself not to call them panties. The husband is horrified when I slip up with that one.

It was my goal to not put too much pressure on him. That has backfired in the past. I let the “Frightening McMean” monster truck potty chart speak for itself. He kept eyeing it. I kept reminding him to tell me when he needed to use the potty. We set up a huge train track. I fed JJ on the tile. We put together the Lightening McQueen puzzle—four times. His panties—I mean underwear—was still dry. He was still content to keep his distance from the potty.

I knew it wouldn’t be too long until he needed to poop. He went the whole day yesterday without a messy diaper. Two hours of tile play time passed. He began to look uncomfortable—shooting sideways glances to his playroom (his favorite spot to do his dirty work). “Would you like to sit on the potty?” I asked gently. “I want my diaper.” He responded. NO. This wasn’t going down like this. I had to do something. I had to pull out all the stops. I grabbed the Lindor Chocolates bag and the Frightening McMean. “If you do it on the potty you can have one of these, and you can hold monster truck McQueen!” I could see him considering my offer…this was progress. Usually by now he’s running toward his playroom yelling at me to go away. “Ok—I go on the big boy potty? We check off five potty times and I can have it?” He said nodding his head. Phew—he bought it. “Yep.” I said.

So, there we were in our little bathroom…for an hour. He played with McMean in the box, he read “The Prince and the Potty,” he talked about who also has a penis. Not even a drop in the toilet. He was uncomfortable. He told me he wanted his diaper. He started crying. As I strapped on his diaper I considered doing the same.

But then I realized that he’s just three. He did demonstrate impeccable control…even if the diaper was still his final destination. “Big boy” steps are a little bigger than “baby steps,” but I still need to patiently wait for him to keep up. He is doing a great job.

Maybe today wasn’t the magic day, but that’s ok. Maybe it will be tomorrow. I’ll keep the train set up in the kitchen, just incase.