Saturday, 15 September 2012

The final hurdle



















We're over it. For just over a week now my big little O has been in big ol' pants. For me, freedom from the nappy yoke means you've made it. The baby stage is completely and utterly over. Gone the voluminous bag of random crap, gone the hours spent trying to kneel inconspicuously in public places as the disproportionately noisome odour of your infant's execretions wafts around you, gone the endless and tedious debates with Fanf about whether or not the nappy needs changing.  Will it wait until after the first glass of wine? After the entrée? After dinner? Until we get home? As a quick rule of thumb, when the nappy starts to hang down through the leg of your child's shorts (as recently happened to our little man at a refined gathering of mostly over-60s - oh the shame) you have missed the moment.

As I said before, O has pretty much toilet trained himself. Anyone looking for tips, these are mine, coming from a mum who got it every which way of wrong first time round.

1. Don't start too early. They know when. You don't know when. Let them lead.
2. Go straight to the toilet. The potty is a pointless distraction. It simply festers about the house cloaking everything in a lingering smell of eau de wee.
3. Get an older sibling. O wanted to be like his big sister. I will admit that on more than one occasion he wore a pair of her old knickers. On his bottom.
4. Never ask them if they want to go to the toilet, always wait for them to ask you. We were constantly asking Matilda and to this day I sometimes think she's doesn't quite understand her instincts.
5. Don't go overboard on praise. Especially with poo. You will be called for inspection, admiration and comment regarding size and level of olfactory unpleasantness each and every time a poo is brought forth.

Here endeth the lesson.

2 comments:

  1. Exactly what I need right now: tips on toilet training!
    I'm so impressed with Owen! Wow!!!

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  2. I was asked to admire a poo today because it looked like a dog's paw print. She was right, though, it did.

    Owen: He looks so much like you. He looks so much like Fanf. If you superimposed a transparent photo of each of you, there he'd be, all smiling and cute. (I suppose that implies that you and Fanf are smiling and cute as well, which is probably true.)

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