If I’ve been quiet lately it’s because I’ve spent the majority of my time and energy attempting to soothe the world’s worst teething baby and the remaining time and energy cleaning up puddles of piddle.
Ted’s nursery parents’ evening was great and his key worker had some really lovely things to say but one of the issues that cropped up was potty training. Miss Emily (as this stupid nursery stupidly makes kids refer to her) thinks he’s ready to go up to the next room but they prefer the children to be potty trained first. There was no pressure but we had a chat and realised that we don’t know how long we’ll be waiting if we keep waiting for his speech and language to improve. We didn’t even know what kind if arbitrary benchmark we’d set ourselves anyway. Then Miss Jen (as this stupid nursery stupidly makes kids refer to her) took him to see the new room and he loved it.
It was suggested that we could just send him to nursery in pants and with loads of extra clothes but that didn’t seem fair on Ted. He’s at nursery on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons so we waited for a Thursday and just stopped putting nappies on him.
He’s been doing really well. At first he asked for a nappy a couple of times and there were a few days when he wouldn’t *go* but he seems to have got past that for now. He has better days than others but on the whole I’m really proud of him. His speech and language could have been an issue if we hadn’t thought it all through first but we just make it all very clear, concise and simple.
Using short statements rather than questions, like “toilet time now, Ted” instead of “do you want a wee?” (the answer would always be no!), has really helped.
He doesn’t really care much about getting a star to stick on his picture of pants anymore but in the first few days it helped.
He loves the praise when he goes and has started praising us when we go too. Hearing “good girl, Mummy!” when I’m on the loo in a public toilet makes me really smile.
He’s got loads of cheap supermarket pants but he’s also got three pairs of Disney Planes pants that he loves. I don’t think they make much of a difference but he likes to tell me there’s a plane when he goes for a wee.
I was really scared of starting this process – and it’s definitely got its low points! – but it’s not as bad as I expected. At least, not yet.
We haven’t started bedtime yet because we’re scaredy cats but he’s woken up dry for the past couple of nights so we need to get ready for that stage.
It’s already costing us less in nappies and taking up less space in our wheelie bin. It’s only been a week and a half but it’s amazing to see the difference.
When he’s running around in his pants and wellies I can’t help but smile, but then I look again and I realise how much he’s grown and how far he’s come. I’m spending so much time worrying about him that I’m not sure I’m paying enough attention to him growing up.
Now he’s got a tiny bum in his jeans, nappy padding all gone, there’s no escaping the fact that he’s not my baby anymore. He’s not even a toddler. He’s a big boy who does big wees on the big toilet.
And I never knew how proud that would make me.