I have heard it said the first year with a child is the hardest. All of the midnight feedings, mass of diapers and complete helplessness can really do a number on you. Well, I am here today to tell you that this is not true. All of that mess is a multitude of times easier than POTTY TRAINING.
Potty training Lydia took a little over a year of my life that I’ll never get back. Excepting her desire to wear Elmo Panties, Lydia was so damn stubborn with all the rest of it. Soaking wet and covered in poop? She didn’t care, just pass the LEGOs. Want some M&M’s? Marshmallows? CAKE?! Not if she had to use the potty for it.
It took an adamant teacher and Spiderman bubbles to get Lydia over the hump.
And no sooner had Lydia established her new relationship with the potty when the questions began: “Are you potty training Sam yet?” Hell no! He can wear diapers until he’s 16, thanks. We needed time to recuperate.
As Sam got closer to three, we knew the ordeal must begin again. I was scared to death. Sam seemed more averse to the potty than Lydia ever was, and that’s saying something. Just the suggestion of sitting on the potty would get Sam screaming. Ok, ok, no potty. I’m cool with that.
A few weeks ago, Sam’s teacher at school found a new project in Sam: she was going to potty train that child. She boasted she had trained some of his classmates in a week — Sam should be similar. You go ahead; have fun with that.
Two days later, we had a little boy who was consistently going to the potty.
And that was it. Done. Fin. Die ende.
And now, just a mere three weeks later, he is even pooping in the potty of his own accord as well as staying dry through the night. The mind boggles.
I owe Sam’s teacher whatever amount of money I would have spent at a therapist had things progressed like before.