First poo in a potty*

* Please note that this entry has visual evidence at the end. Please scroll carefully if you are easily upset by the sight of poo in a poe


There are many important milestones in a child's life: the first smile, first word, first tooth, first step...

As the title of this post suggests, there is another one that is quite important. Our two year old toddler has a habit of plonking himself on the house potty and grinning, before looking between his legs to see if there has been any issue. Recently this performance was more considered when he sat down with a look of concentration, and not a little effort, and proceeded to huff and puff in the usual fashion.

Suddenly he stood up and turned to point at the poe. And there 'it' was. A shiny nugget of purest poo. It was not the biggest turd, but it was perfectly formed and brought us both great joy. He knew he had done a good thing, probably because I was so excited. I don't think I made such a fuss when he took his first steps.

Partly I think this is because I was imagining that this act would mean that toilet training would be a doddle. We were very lucky with his brother. By the time we started his induction, he got it straight away and had very few accidents, even during the night.

I have since learned from other parents that this is not always the case, so I'm not expecting it to be so easy the second time around, especially as our toddler drinks a lot more milk before going to bed than his brother ever did.

My hopes of pain free toilet training were given a further jolt a few days ago when I came downstairs to discover that he had removed his nappy and pooed in the small cupboard under the stairs. This had become smeared all over a sports bag of mine and another bag which have since been binned. Oh well, maybe he's not ready yet.

Evidence: the nugget

Going potty

I had been dreading this period of bringing up baby (although J no longer seems like a baby, or even a toddler. More a premature stroppy teenager).
You hear such horror stories about potty training. People say they are chained to the house, their children initiate dirty protests*, or they simply scream in horror at the sight of a potty and refuse to entertain the idea of sitting on this alien throne.
We've either been extremely lucky or we're just 'king brilliant parents because (touch wood) it has been a relatively untroublesome affair. We've had a potty kicking about the house since J was just over one. The thinking was that if he got used to it then come the dreaded time, he wouldn't be afraid of it's awesome power. And so it proved to be. He has variously used it as a hat, a store for his toys, and a comfy seat for his teddy. I don't think he has eaten out of it, but I wouldn't bet the farm on it.
The only problem with the potty was that, even at a relatively young age, it seemed too small for his baby bum. I bristle at the idea that he's a lard bucket - he really isn't and seems perfectly formed to biased old me - but I don't understand how his dimensions are so out of whack with the design of this particular poe (John Lewis one with a car on it, thanks for asking).
When we got serious about training, my wife invested in a Mothercare one with removable bowl, for easy washing, which initially looked a much better option. But even this seems to have been designed for a different shaped child. Perhaps he has rugby player's thighs and it makes it difficult for him to sit down and point percy at the porcelain (or injection moulded plastic in this case - maybe really posh kids have Armitage Shanks poes). We have had liquids squirting in all directions. There's definitely a gap in the market for a potty that works - Dragons Den here I come.
The good news is that all this fiddliness hasn't put him off - pee in the pot - Yes; poo in the pot - Yes; stand in the pot after first two - er... There have been few accidents so far, certainly fewer than I was anticipating (the floaters in the bath the other night were comical rather than anything, and there has been no repeat yet). He has even woken up in the night asking for a wee wee, rather than wet the nappy that we still put him in for sleeping.
Proud? You betcha. I only hope that the arrival of Alfie (as imminent newbie has been christened by big brother) doesn't cause a backward step.

* This phrase always reminds me of my uncle's description of my dad's journey into modern art/modish interior decor. When we first moved to England from Scotland, he decided to mark the break from the auld country with a rediscovered artistic streak. Quite literally in this case as he decorated the master bedroom with a poo brown surrealistic swirl that went round all four walls and was visible to bemused passers by on our estate. Oh dad, how I miss you and how you'd love our little man.