Going Potty

The thing about becoming a parent is that reasonably often you find yourself paddling in uncharted territory (or indeed, piss). Just as you get to grips with having a newborn/baby/toddler/pre-schooler etc, they go and change and you get a whole new set of things to 'expertly' guide them through.

Sometimes this is fun.

Sometimes it's, to be frank, terrifying.

And it goes on changing. On into teenagerdom and 'young adults' and then maybe having grandchilden and the like. And it doesn't matter if you've done it before because every child is so damn different.

When you are little you just kind of presume that mums are a kind of ubiquitous, capable expert in EVERY field and they just 'know'. They just 'know' EVERYTHING.

As a teenager you come to the conclusion that they know NOTHING and you actually know everything about the entire world. So there.

The truth is actually far more complex - mums know a lot, we pretend to know even more but, yup, sometimes we really do know jack sh1t. We are all, at times, flying by the seats of our pants.

I was reminded of this, all too harshly, when I attempted to potty train my first child. At the time I was feeling particularly 'expert' about the whole motherhood thing and then, suddenly, I found myself back swimming in the murky world of extreme self-doubt and not having a bleedin' clue what I was doing or how I should do it.

Something like 9 months later, I resorted to chocolate buttons for a wee and Jaffa Cakes for a poo and it worked (kind of).

The whole thing was all quite hideous and I have no wish to repeat it.

Only I'm going to have to.

The toddler is showing 'signs'. Well I thought he was. Now I'm doubting myself (again).

On the showing of these 'signs' I got the potty out of the cupboard (that alone gave me flashbacks).

I presented it to him. I showed him how to use it (well kind of, my butt wouldn't actually fit on it but I hoped he got the idea).

He shrieked with delight.

I smiled.

He put it on his head.

Sigh.

'My hat! My hat!' he cried.

'NO! For wee wees' I implored.

'My boat! My boat!' he exclaimed and promptly fetched Iggle Piggle for an impromptu sail.

Sigh.

And then he threw it down the stairs.

Today he decided to strip himself naked so I explained to him that if a wee wee came he could use the potty and he smiled and nodded.

And next?

Next he streaked through the living room at high speed, spraying a jet of wee as he ran, shrieking with joy.

Potty use: Fail.

'No. No. No' I explained, going to fetch the kitchen roll.

On my return I found him delightedly running his brother's cars through the puddles he'd created.

'No. No. No', I explained (again).

He looked very proud of himself.

'POTTY!' I reiterated.

He nodded.

Shortly afterwards he 'sprayed' the conservatory yelling 'POTTY! POTTY! POTTY' as he did so.

Yup, well if I'm not already, I will be shortly.

Clueless. The pair of us.

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