The Road to Success

I never thought this day would come, but I think it’s actually here. Atrain is doing his business in the potty. His shop was set up for so long in his pants that I began to wonder if I should invest in kindergartener-sized pull ups. But no—his nasty address has changed once and for all. Even though he left a few yucky messes along the way, (and I’m sure there will be a few more to come) cleaning up accidents beats consuming dirty diapers, hands down.

I am so proud of my little man. Every time he has a successful potty venture I squeal with delight. I’ve even been known to do a few high kicks and “bring-it” bathroom dances. Then I see his “really, mom?” expression and I quickly suppress my excitement. But inside I’m doing the Haka.

Two days ago I picked him up from preschool and I asked him if his pull-ups were still clean and dry. “Yes,” he replied, and then went on, “when I feel it, I say, ‘momma, I need to go potty.” I had listened to myself repeat this phrase many times, but for some reason when he said it, something clicked. No more pull-ups. No more, “Mom, I’m poopy—change me!” No more negotiating, begging and pleading with my three year old to take up toilet ventures. I was time to get dirty.

When we got home I changed his pull ups and announced that we were all out of replacements. Good thing I hid them, because he went looking. “What about in the bag?” he asked. “Nope—we’re all out. “What’s up there?” He asked, pointing to the top of his closet where I hid the stash. Darn, he caught me. “Those are Jdog’s diapers,” I lied. “I guess you have to wear underwear and put your poopy in the potty.” And that was that.

He didn’t like the idea of messing his underwear and he didn’t want to sit on the big potty, but after a momentary struggle we made a bargain: he could watch a few shows on TV if he did it while sitting on his little potty. So, there we sat—me on the recliner with Jdog eating and sleeping in my arms, Atrain on the little potty, ready to poop and pee in the living room. And what followed was magic.

After two PBS kids episodes he had peed, and I could tell by the look on his face that he was growing evermore uncomfortable keeping the rest of the nastiness inside. So I paused the TV to give him a little motivation. He whined, right on cue. I responded, “If you poop in your potty you can watch more.” Then I left him alone for a moment so that he could decide (he’s always appreciated his privacy while pooping). In under a minute he yelled excitedly, “I did it!!!” I walked back into the room, and sure as the stench burning a hole in the little plastic potty, he had done it.

I was so happy. I didn’t even mind dumping the contents and bleaching everything it touched. The little king had gone to the bathroom. He called for his toys, he called for his treats and he called for his PBS episodes, three. It was nice to discover that he cared about all of the incentive schemes, after all. We are on the road to success.