Potty training has been a hot topic in our household as of late. The Professor seems to think it will just magically happen with nary a drip of pee or smear of poop on the rug. He is horrified by bodily excrement to a comedic level “BELLE!!! I NEED HELP WITH THIS DIAPER!!!!!!” is a weekly ordeal.
“Babe, you know there will be some mess when we potty train. You are going to have to clean pee or poo off of something that is not a tooshie. Unless I potty train while you are out of town.”
“Sounds like a good plan to me,” says the eternally helpful husband.
I know potty training will bring a good amount of stress to our already taxed marriage so we are putting it off.
We do have a cute little potty at home that Sabine uses to host “swimming” parties for her stuffed kitties. She also likes to sit on it while I shower and chat with me. I have found all kinds of toys in the potty and each time realize we might be missing the point with the potty.
Recently we started sitting on the potty every night before bath. She sits on her little potty and I sit on my grown up potty and together we sing Twinkle Twinkle and go pee. Or I pee and she pretends. Either way, it’s been quite a while since kitties swam in her potty so I think I’m making a little progress.
A few nights ago it was bath time and the Professor found Sabine hiding beside the couch.
“It’s bath time, Sabine! Come on!”
“Noooooo!” she cried. “I’m pooping!”
And then she starts making a really over dramatic grunting poop face so we think she is just full of beans.
“Then let’s go poop on the potty!” I cheer.
“Ok,” she says and marches off.
Once in the bathroom, we remove pants and diaper and she sits on the potty while I cheer her on. “Yay! Poop on the potty! GO SABINE”
She squeezes, she grimaces, her tooshie lifts ever so slightly and I see the BIGGEST POOP EVER coming out of her tiny little bum. “I SEE IT!” I cheer.
And then she looks down and sees it. One giant turd coming out of her bottom. One giant, stinky, glistening turd. And she loses it.
“AHHHHHHH!” she screams as she grabs my neck and starts to shake with terror. “SCARRRRRRYYYYYY!” She continues to sob, and poop, while holding my neck. Once the poop is done I carry my terrified child into the bedroom for pajamas and calming.
“It’s ok, Sabine. I’m so proud of my big girl! You pooped in the potty. So awesome! Let’s celebrate with ice cream tomorrow!”
“Poop in potty,” she sniffled. “So scary. No more potty. Poop in diaper.”
Since then she won’t go near the potty. She won’t even sit on it while I shower. Hopefully, time will heal these wounds and one day she will be able to poop in a toilet and not cry in terror. Until then, I ordered another shipment of diapers and am trying to forget the feeling of having a person take a dump while screaming and clutching my neck…. Neither of us may ever be the same.