Potty At The Party
December 18, 2007
Our two year old has been working on potty training for quite some time. He showed interest early, and we capitalized on that, but we didn’t get hardcore until recently. Quite frankly, his babysitter has been much more adamant about making him use the potty than we have been. After a fairly dry week last week at her house, I resolved myself to be a much better (read: less lazy) parent, and kick this diaper thing to the curb.
As any parent knows, the early stages of potty training involve incessantly taking your child to the toilet. It is key to make your child go to the potty once every 30 minutes or so. It’s alot of work, to drop what you’re doing and make them go, which is why kids nowdays spend longer in diapers.
Saturday we had to attend a birthday party, out of state, for one of J’s family members. We also had some shopping to do, and knew it would be a long day out and about, but I was determined to make the kiddo use the toilet as much as possible.
The party was at a McDonald’s playplace, which as most of us know, is the epitome of germs and stink. For those of you that have never had the pleasure to smell the inside of a fast-food indoor playground, you can do the following experiment at home to get the same effect. Take one wet mangy dog and cover with 1 liter of vomit, the chunkier the better, then dust with 1 cup of that stuff that schools use to sop up vomit in the hallway, cover with unwashed sweaty gym socks, and spray the whole thing down with the raunchiest, fruttiest smelling disenfectant you can find. To determine the smell of a bathroom in the playground, combine the above recipe with poop, urine, and used femine hygine products.
During the party my son expressed desire to use said restroom. I took him to the unisex restroom, and our visit was successful, yet lengthy, as he insists upon doing everything himself, which takes 10 times longer. As we were washing up, the door opened slightly, and my husband stuck his head in and announced, in a slightly irritated tone, “they’re waiting on you to open our gift”.
His words awoke the sleeping demon in me. I opened that door, he knew immediately that I was pissed. I strutted right over to my him, and inquired just what exactly he thought I was doing in there. Taking a bubble bath? Watching Oprah? Getting a massage? It’s a bathroom for crying out loud, and a disgusting one at that. Did he honestly think I was spending time in there because I liked it? Even I’m not that desperate to get away from my in-laws.
I informed him, and the child’s mother, that I was sorry for holding up the festivities due to helping my son in the bathroom, and assured her that I would not have been offended at all if the kid opened my gift without me being there to witness it. It really wasn’t a problem with the child’s mother. She simply skipped over our gift until I got back, and the kid was still opening gifts when I emerged from the bathroom.
I have since forgiven my husband’s seemingly harmless, albeit entirely stupid comment, and chalked up my reaction to it as the result of holiday and family induced stress.
Potty-wise, we had a successful rest of the day, and an even better Sunday with no accidents! I have it on pretty good accord that santa is going to bring him some underwear, so pretty soon the diapers will be gone for good!