“My little guy started asking to go to the bathroom on his own,” my mom friend said, “and now he’s totally potty-trained!”
I couldn’t say the same. The only bathroom-related item my 3-year-old was asking for was the plunger. He used it as a hat.
My mom friend continued to expound on her 2-1/2-year-old’s remarkable potty-training experience while I watched my kid poop in his diaper on the playground. Then he went down the longest slide.
My son had shown no interest in pooping in the potty. He didn’t like the way pull-ups pulled off and was left unimpressed with the coldness of the commode.
The real problem, though, was my son loved his diapers
He enjoyed the convenience they offered him. He deemed it impractical to be bothered in the middle of his busy schedule of block building to walk all the way to the bathroom.
All the parents I knew were buying pull-ups for their kids. Even his pediatrician recommended starting toilet training before 3 years old. The pressure to stay at pace with his age group mounted within me. I wanted what was best for my son, and keeping up with The Joneses and The Smith — and the woman who told me to cover my floor in plastic and let my son pee on it — was the apparently the only way he could get into the college of his choice.
I struggled with the decision to start the process but I felt that there was an unspoken competition between parents to potty train as early as possible. It was all everyone talked about. Discussing what happened to that wacky Peppa Pig was out and how old a kid was when they made it to the toilet was in. So, we attempted to pee in the potty, in spite of my little one’s disinterest.
I tried all the tricks and his curiosity was piqued
He liked peeing on Cheerios and racing to the bathroom was a blast. It felt a little manipulative, but then again everyone was doing it. Maybe following along with the crowd was the best plan! Of course, that’s when life stepped in and changed all the plans.
At first, it was my husband and I who changed plans — travel plans. Plane rides and car trips are not as conducive to “going when ya gotta go.” We suffered some summertime setbacks, but soon after a miracle occurred: My son pooped in the potty! We were having a ball and I felt like we were finally on a roll.
Then the ball stopped rolling
Two days later, our family dog of 13 years passed away. My husband and I were devastated. My son kept asking when she was coming back from the doctor. At a little over 3 years old, it was hard for him to grasp the concept of her absence, but it did make him associate this event with his potty training. He immediately regressed. I let him.
That’s when I chose a slower potty training route more distinctly tailored for my son. In the morning, I’d ask if he felt like using the bathroom that day. Sometimes he said yes and sometimes he said no. We made it a team effort, instead of something to power through.
It took longer, but it became a more enjoyable bonding experience than I imagined because we made our own path. I listened to what he needed — and sometimes it was a pair of pull-ups. And guess what? Now he pees and poops in the potty like everyone else.
It turned out what worked for everyone else wasn't what worked for us and as soon as I figured that out, life — and potty training — became way easier.
