I hate to resort to potty humor, but when the potty seat fits……
My two mini-ions are true examples at how different siblings could be. At 2.5, we felt Mini-ion #1 had shown enough signs of interest in potty training and got him started. It was about 6 solid months of constant vigilance to where we started feeling able to relax that if he walked into the other room, an “uh-oh” or a puddle wouldn’t soon emerge.
With that in mind, I have no thoughts of putting Mini-ion #2 anywhere close to leaving diapers. Plus, I have a classic case of second child syndrome with her. Parents of two (or more) may know exactly what I mean. With the first one, you are watching, waiting, anticipating every single milestone, worrying about whether they are keeping up.
Then the second child comes and I find myself caught surprised by her milestones. What? Teeth? She’s walking? Feeding herself? I had a friend commend me for waiting until she was two until I turned her car seat around – I just forgot! You can imagine my raised eyebrows when she started fighting the diaper I’m putting on her, and wanting to go “pee-poopie” on the toilet. At twenty months!
I’m not ready for this, for sure. I’m not ready for my little baby and I to lose that time of connection (mostly during pee diapers, not so much during poo). I’m not ready for my baby, my last born, to be growing this old. I’m certainly not ready to be chasing after her with Clorox wipes.
I don’t think she’s ready for it either. She has the words, but she doesn’t quite have the motor skills to be adjusting her clothing. Her bladder doesn’t really hold it, so on the rare instances when I’ve lost my mind enough to let her go without a diaper, she leaves a trail of pee.
But, who am I to stop it. When she reaches for my hand and says, “pee-poopie”, I obediently follow her into the bathroom to spend the next 20 minutes or so being sung to (and then shushed when I try to sing along) or hearing her in-depth analysis of something (which I can’t discern). When I try to leave, hell breaks loose. When I try to clean the bathroom, I get a gentle tug and a not so gentle command, “sit”.
Maybe she is ready (although she actually only “goes” about 25% of the time). Maybe she just appreciates this time we spend together. Although if that is true, I wish we could do it somewhere more comfortable. In either case, I’ll try to sit there patiently, even while my freshly made lunch cools at the table, just in case we’re on to something.
This will all pay off in the end, right?