Last Monday we decided it was about time we got on board the potty training train (?!), and started the arduous process of removing nappy changes from our lives. We went for the fairly drastic tactic of simply ditching nappies altogether and popping George into undies, whilst explaining he MUST tell an adult if he needed the toilet.
How foolish we were.
On the first day I think we managed about two half wees on target while the rest took place all over our living room carpet. Great.
However, I refused to give in and rendered myself housebound in an attempt to make a potty training breakthrough. Finally, on Friday we managed to get all the way to town, have a relatively stress-free lunch, and return home – all accident free! (And I barely even had to bribe him to use the loo!)
So today, being the chancer that I am, I decided we’d try our first playgroup sans nappy. My changing bag was well stocked with wipes, spare undies/bottoms/socks, and even a wealth of pull ups, just in case our supply at home was stolen while we were out.
We managed a car trip, a visit to the doctors, the walk to the library and even the first half of playgroup before disaster struck.
George tucked himself away in a corner and I immediately knew this was a bad sign. Grabbing his hand I frantically asked, ‘do you need the toilet, what’s happening?!’ To which he equally frantically replied, ‘need a wee Mummy, let’s go to the toilet quick!’ Okay, I thought, crisis averted, he’s not wet = no accidents.
How wrong I was.
Upon arrival at the 2×2 metre squared windowless sauna of a child’s toilet we swiftly climbed the step to the urinal, pulled his pants down, and alas, nada. No wees. Just a shout of ‘I DON’T NEED TO MUMMY, CLEAN ME UP!’ Oh god. That should’ve been my first clue. But no. I was too busy sweating and suffocating in the windowless room.
All of a sudden it hit me, that smell, the all too familiar smell when you know there’s been a Code Brown situation. I checked his pants, yep, definitely something there but not much, maybe we can rectify this. I stood him away from the loo ready to get him cleaned up and felt my blood turn cold as he pointed towards the toilet step and said, ‘there’s the poo Mummy’.
I won’t go into too much gory detail (no more than I already have – soz). But the resulting scene looked something like this; Poo on George, poo on George’s undies and trousers, a huge poo on the floor, poo footsteps as we’d also BOTH STEPPED IN IT, a serenely calm toddler and a sweaty almost laughing with panic/bordering on insane Mother.
Just a couple of notes for all you potty training Mamas out there. Don’t leave your changing bag 20 metres away across a library through 2 doors. Toilet roll is not, and never will be, as effective as baby wipes. Baby wipes are God. And finally, if you ever end up washing poo off both your own, and your toddlers, shoes in a public library bathroom, please remember you are not alone.