As I start to look into pre-schools for Robbie, I have come to a startling realization. My child needs to be potty trained. Desperately. He cannot start pre-school and still be in Pull-Ups, which means we have a problem. A friend emailed me the potty training bible, and , last Friday, I set out, determined to be done with diapers. After all, Robbie uses the potty at daycare; he just doesn’t at home.
Robbie and I had a long talk about underpants and being a big boy. He proudly marched into his room, sans pants and diaper, and threw away all of his Pull-Ups. He was ready.
Ready to med with me. I pumped him full of fluids, talked to him about rewards and being a big boy, and told him to let me know when he had to use the potty. Thirty minutes later, we had our first accident. And then our second. And our third. Within an hour and a half, we had six accidents. One on the couch.
We realized fairly early on that they weren’t really accidents, but Rob really hammered that home when we put him in time out. After about five seconds, we heard a flood hitting the floor. Yup, accident number six.
At this point, Justin and I made an executive decision. We knew he was messing with us, and we weren’t going to give into his game. So, Robbie went back to Pull-Ups. We’re doing a lot of talking about being a big boy and going to pre-school. And I know he’s going to do it. Except he’s going to do it on his terms, not mine.