Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Potty Training, Twin-Style

After three kids, I have taken a relaxed approach to potty-training.  The one thing I have learned, after timers, sticker charts, and candy incentives is that it will happen when it happens.  I have also learned that as frustrating as it may seem at times...none of my children have entered elementary school still wearing Pampers. 

Despite my easy-going approach, nothing induces stress more than the combination of a boy who is aware of his elimination process combined with the skills to undress himself...and the lack of interest when it comes to going in the potty.  Except perhaps TWO boys who fit this description.  I should clarify:  both have an interest in the potty:  sitting on it...slamming the lid down...splashing in their sister's pee...letting rubber duckies float in the potty...but neither one has actually put anything in there that belongs in there. 

They have different approaches to letting me know when it's time for a change.  Connor will look startled, grab his bottom, and say, "butt butt!"  He will then promptly begin to remove his pants and Pull-Up, which, if not caught in time, will leave streaks of poo on his leg...and the carpet. 

Owen is sneaky.  He will tell me, several times a day, that he has to go potty.


"Owen, do you have to go potty?"


"What do you need to do in the potty?"
"Um...poo poo.  Um...pee pee....potty." 


I take him to the potty, he strips, sits for two seconds, grins, and tells me, "teeth?"  He then scampers on top of the big potty and grabs his toothbrush.  Everyday it is a ploy to try and get into the bathroom and suck toothpaste off of his toothbrush.  Later, he will inevitably poop in his Pull-Up, and simply say, "uh oh...poo poo."

Yesterday I put the boys down for their nap.  Within two minutes I hear Owen calling out to me, "POTTY!  POTTY!"

I ignore it.  I know he just wants to play...I am exhausted...I want them to sleep.


I sigh, and go in to check on him.  I walk in to find Owen standing in his bed...naked.  His Pull-Up had been removed, and thrown onto the floor....and there is a pile...then a line of poop...streaking down his sheet.  I conjured up an image of my toddler scooting on his butt, like a dog, across his bed. 

"Mom.  Poo-poo."

Thanks for telling me, Buddy.

I suppose it could be worse.  He could have used it to decorate the walls.

I'm thinking that's what might be coming next.

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