Going potty…

I am officially going potty!

I’ve succeeded with my daughter and thought it would be a walk in the park second time round potty training my three-year-old son. I mean how hard can it be?

I admit I’ve left it quite late, partly due to pure laziness plus a lack of time. However, I was a little embarrassed when a very confident two-year-old pointed out that my son was still wearing a nappy. It was at this juncture I took it upon my self to embark upon operation potty-training.

The long summer holidays were here and so I had plenty of time and no excuses. The well known phrase about leading a horse to water really struck a chord with me because for love nor money I could not lead my stubborn son to any loo or potty. He point blank refused, so I had failed at the first hurdle. But, I knew I had to get back up and try again.

Although my son is very able he’s not very willing. I would win an Oscar for praising every child we know wearing “big boy pants”. I’ve tried reading potty training books, bribery and bought every pair of fun character pants under the sun from comedy ambulances to six-eyed aliens, but no matter, he’s just not interested.

In my vulnerable state I must be an advertisers dream I was frantically searching the internet for novelty potties, bright ones, glow in the dark, dancing, singing and flashing ones, you name it I was looking at them. Money no object if it meant my son was nappy-free then so be it.

You can imagine my delight when my expensive neon, novelty, frog potty arrived in the post, the answer to my prayers. Potty unpackaged the green frog was ready to go; all it needed was one enthusiastic boy. He shrieked with delight when he saw the huge frog eyes looking at him, so far so good: “Is this really for me. I love it.” Ah success, but then he promptly turned on his little heels and left the room leaving me alone with the frog.

This task was really hard, I was on the brink of searching Yell for a Potty Training School where for one week you drop your child off and they came back potty trained, but, alas, no such thing exists.

I decided to go cold turkey and with novelty pants on my son and I turned our back on nappies. I would be lying if I said we had cracked it, but slowly but surely we are making progress.

There have been some funny moments amongst the frustration, one being when my son proudly pulled down his trousers on a park round-about, showing off his new crocodile pants to a surprised seven-year-old and the other being when he accidentally weed on a bouncy castle which resulted in children screaming and mass evacuation, much to my embarrassment.

Believe me I’ll be delighted to see the back of the green frog who glares at me every time I walk in the bathroom.

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