May 2009 Archives

Fashion victim

"Mum, this new t-shirt is really fancy. And really stripey. I need to stand in front of the mirror to see how cool I look".

Finn, almost 4 yrs, aspiring to be as well dressed as his parents.

Mum: We're going to the park now Finn, can you please put your shoes on?
Mum: Finn, LISTENING. I need you to put your shoes on...we're going to the park.
Mum: FINN! Put your shoes on!
Finn: I can't find them (while standing outside under the tree)
Mum: Maybe you should try looking for them...in the shoe box
Finn: I doooonnn't waaaaannnnt to
Mum: OK we'll go to the park without your shoes
Finn: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo....I NEEEEEEEED my shooooeees!!!

Finn, with shoes, aged 3 3/4 yrs. Gets in car. Falls asleep. Misses park entirely.

Potty Heaven

Dear Finn

For the last year or so, you have been stuck in a pretty interesting rut developmental wise. We, as your parents have been growing increasingly impatient and frustrated with the situation. We tried everything we could think of, and a few things that other people had thought of, and a few things that no-one had ever thought of. We talked until we were sick of the sound of our own voices, and until we were sick of you not taking a blind bit of notice of any of it. It would be fair to say that over the last year the title of MOST STUBBORN OBSTINATE TODDLER IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE UNIVERSE EVER EVER EVER has most certainly been awarded to you as some sort of lifetime achievement. Pretty good considering your short number of years on this earth.

When we started toilet training you took to the weeing side of it pretty easily. You watched what your Dad did and copied him, complete with the forgetting to flush, refusal to put the lid down afterwards, the waving of the whanger in all directions and the weeing on the floor. It was totally simple. Soon after that came your dryness overnight. I can possibly give your Dad the credit for this as well, genetically speaking, as your Oma commonly tells me that your Dad had the biggest bladder ever as a toddler. So that was another milestone. Tick.

But the pooing. Oh the pooing. What a frustrating time. We had started off concentrating our toilet training on using the toilet. No interim potty. Partly because we talked to people who had forgone the potty and it had been fine for them. Partly because you were perfectly happy weeing in the toilet, and big enough to get up there by yourself to sit on your toddler-sized padded seat. When you needed to poo you would ask for a nappy, put the seat on the toilet, close the door "for privacy" and climb and sit up there by yourself and do the deed. You would call for us when you were done. We thought we were almost there. A year later we were still as far away. We tried bribing. There were promises of Thomas books, toys, chocolates, icecreams, space ships, trips around the world. No dice. We tried talking about being brave and strong, and being a big boy. We talked about what was scary. We said no more Blues Clues. You shrugged and never asked for Blues Clues again. We tried cutting a hole in the nappy, a rather messy and totally pointless exercise. We tried refusing you a nappy, which only lead to you holding on for 4-5 days, and having to be given Actilax. VERY VERY STUBBORN BOY. We tore some more hair out and went a bit more grey. We refused all TV, which encouragingly seemed to linger a bit more on your mind than all of our other threats and promises.

There was a day when you were talking to Grandma and you told her the "splash was scary". Uh huh. We tried putting lots of toilet paper in the toilet first to stop the splash. No go. Then one of our friends suggested a potty. We talked to you about getting a potty, and you seemed really excited. We went off to Target, and you chose a big green Elmo potty and proudly carried it around. You promised you were going to sit on it and do a poo without a nappy.

Later on that day you rather needed to go and danced around as is your habit. You demanded a nappy. We talked about the potty and you balked at the idea of using it, as you have done with so many of the other ideas. Your Dad persisted. One minute later you were looking proudly at the object of your labours in the potty. It seemed so easy.

We were ecstatic. You were ecstatic. I texted all our friends who I knew would be very happy for you and very happy for us. We put some champagne in the fridge. We laughed about the many toys that have been sitting in the wardrobe for nigh on a year, waiting for this moment. The weight of your toileting terror was off our shoulders. The fear of you going to school still pooing in a nappy, the fear of you being the object of ridicule from your friends. All gone. Passed into the hands of a green Elmo potty. Man I love that potty. Now if they could just make a self cleaning model...

Two days later I think you have sat on your potty and pooed SIX times. You always follow this up with a request for TV, already getting the message that TV and crap are pretty closely related. Yesterday I heard you telling Holly that when she is brave and strong like you, she too can poo on the potty. I rolled my eyes and laughed at your grandstanding.

But really we are the proudest and most relieved parents ever.
No more nappies for you.
You are big and brave and strong and we love you to bits.

love Mum