Potty Time

I have a friend (I won't name names) who bought a potty for her two-year-old son, he sat down, tried it, liked it and never wore a diaper again. No offense to those of you who have potty-trained geniuses, but I hate people like that. Those are the type of people whose morning sickness is cured by eating a cracker-- or whose kids stay in time-out just because Mommy said so.

I, on the other hand, have been "potty training" Joey since November. We started out by buying a potty. He didn't like it. Then we bought a firetruck that he got to use only after he went potty. He liked the firetruck but not enough to sacrifice his diapers for it. We bought stickers. He didn't care. We bought jelly beans. I ate them before he had the chance (hey, I was stressed-- this potty training this is hard!).

So, now it's March. Potty time is part of our morning routine. We get up, have a glass (or two) of juice, have breakfast, then head upstairs for potty time. Joey sits (and sits and sits) on the potty while watching a DVD and I nurse Kate. Most days, he sits there for thirty (or even forty) minutes. He never pees. Without fail, he pees the instant I put his diaper on after he gets up.

This morning, the routine was going forward without a hitch (Joey sitting and not peeing, Kate and I watching while she nursed). About thirty minutes in, I saw a look of sheer panic cross his face: He couldn't hold it anymore. Before I could get up (ready to applaud), he whipped his little thing out of the potty, stood up and peed all over the floor. I didn't know whether to cheer (he went ouside of his diaper) or cry (he went on the floor). Either way, I'm looking at this as progress.

When you've been potty traning for five months, anything is progress. Baby steps, right? Baby steps.