January 31, 2005 - experiments in potty training, or, the worst that can happen -
We've been working toward the holy grail of potty training for a while now, slowly, rather un-enthusiastically. I'm not what you'd call whole-heartedly committed to the process, but rather, I'm in the information-gathering stage. Where I've been for the past year.
I've gathered a highly respectable amount of info, from anecdotes to pediatrician's recommendations to several lists of "signs" that your toddler is ready for potty training.
These signs include things like, "uncomfortable in a dirty diaper," "shows interest in using the potty," "understands the 'concepts' of the potty," and the great big flashing indicator, "wants to wear underwear, and not wear a diaper."
So when Everett put up a terrible fuss about putting his diaper back on, I thought the smart potty-training mama thing to do would be to let him go without a diaper. The worst that could happen, I figured, was a pee incident - he'd already had a substantial poopy diaper a few hours ago. I set him on his diaper-changing pad on the floor, right where he could play with trains. I gave him the little talk we've had so many times - if you want to go without a diaper, you'll have to tell me if you're ready to go to the potty. Just tell me, and we'll go upstairs and sit on the potty.
Eagerly awaiting his next move, I started dinner. I was in the kitchen maybe ten minutes (periodically asking him if he was ready to go upstairs to the toilet), and he started yelling. "Mom!" he said. "It's SO stinky! There's poop on the floor and it's SO STINKY!"
This can't be, I thought, there is no poop. Well, at the worst, it must be on the diaper-changing pad, right?
I went into the living room and looked around. There was the diaper-changing pad, thrown up against the wall. There was a pile of poop, on the carpet, right in front of Everett's toy barn. There was Everett, naked and jumping up and down, with a little bit of poop left on his bottom.
I cleaned everything up, trying to stay calm. It wasn't too terrible of a mess; at least the poop wasn't runny. "If you can't tell me when you have to go poop," I said to Everett matter-of-factly (that's what they say, be matter-of-fact about everything, don't make your child feel embarrassed about his bowels), "we'll have to keep your diaper on."
"OK!" he said, cheerfully, and sat down on his nicely-diapered bottom to play.
