If I'd bothered to get out of my pyjamas this morning, I might have taken a photo of myself spiking a football to illustrate today's post, because BAM. POTTY TRAINING ACHIEVED. FOR THE THIRD AND FINAL TIME.
The toddler program Ike attends promises to get everybody potty trained by age three, and for awhile I was willing to be patient and wait for the teachers to declare him "ready"...while even dreaming of the Mystical Potty Training Unicorn of Ike deciding to be "ready" all on his own.
But it turns out 2.5 years of diapering is my own personal limit of patience, and once it became clear that the only thing standing in our way was Ike's own stubbornness (i.e. His Royal Inherent Ikeness), I was like, "fuck this, I am down for a battle of wills, because my will is stronger and also I am bigger than you. SIT ON THE TOILET. DO YOUR BUSINESS. LOVE ME AND DESPAIR."
And in the end, that's really the secret to potty training: You have to want it more. Well, that and a lot of paper towels. And a solid couple days of singular, obsessive focus. And more paper towels. And finding the correct bribe incentive.
This was Ike's, by the way:
The Hulk (or "Da Whoolk") is Ike's favorite superhero — his other favorite character is Wreck-It Ralph, so I guess he's got a thing for comically over-sized hands and bodybuilder physiques? — and conveniently wears purple big boy underwear. We practiced putting Da Whoolk on the potty and made up a little story about him defeating dirty diapers and had him whip a prefold around like Loki.
(Thanks, Joss Whedon! I'm sure this is exactly what you had in mind when you filmed that scene. You are truly doing the Lord's work.)
And although things were still pretty shaky by yesterday morning, I sent him to school in underwear. Along with a big bag of extra clothing. Although I forgot to send in an extra pair of shoes.
(He peed on his shoes.)
That one accident at school was enough to break his will and award me the victory. He came home like, "Yeah, that was unpleasant and I would like that to not happen again. Please to be taking me to the toilet now." He has been absolutely on point ever since, Mystical Unicorn style.
HULK SMASH! WHIP YOUR UNDERPANTS BACK AND FORTH!
(I still sent in an extra pair of shoes today, because I am not completely delusional. But still: there's always that undeniable breakthrough moment with potty training when you realize that the worst is behind you — the "worst" being a kid who will sit on the potty and do nothing and then pee on the couch 30 seconds later out of sheer, blind spite. Now we've moved on to the in-between "practicing" stage, wherein I am required to prompt and remind my child of his bladder's existence every two minutes.)
(Tomorrow I will further mark this momentous occasion in raising semi-functional human beings with one final cloth diapering post. Cloth diapering toddlers, re-purposing stuff for training, what diapering purchases ended up being the most useful/valuable and all that. Thrilling, thrilling stuff, I'm sure. But then I'll shut up about cloth diapers forever.)
(Unless you send me a question about them at the Advice Smackdown. Then I will continue to talk your ear off, because OPINIONS.)