Send In The Negotiator
See? I get all brassy and declare that I'll be posting two times in a day - the second posting being a cheery list of fun and silly activities my family will undertake over the summer months.
*greyscreen and static for two days*
Heh. I haven't even started the formal List-O-Fun-O-Rama.
I can tell you without a smidgen of doubt what will NOT be on the list. Potty training for my youngest is about as far down on the list of fun as a bulleted item can get.
Sure, on Sunday morning, she chirped "Mommy! I need peeps! I use paaaaawty." I might have done a little jig, I'm not certain. I hustled her to the bathroom, and with much fanfare, seated her royal hein-ass on the Dora the Explorer toilet seat.
She beamed at me, and I sat across from her on the storage bench. A minute went by, with no peeps.
"Honey, you got peeps? Show Mama."
"Yes. Peeps." Makes pisssssss sound with her mouth.
"Uh, no. Why don't we sit here for a minute and see if you can make REAL peeps."
"Okay!" We sit in expectant silence for a minute. She makes pissssssss sound again.
"Well, yes. That's what it will sound like, but let's try for some real peeps, okay."
"Hey! I want my duck!"
And so began the longest 90 minutes of my potty training career. After handing her the duck, I was informed that I needed to play pirates and mermaids using a plastic rowboat, a rubber dinosaur, a polly pocket who is missing her head, and an empty toilet paper roll. After a few minutes of "Yo Ho Ho!" and "Aaargh!" I suggested some books to pass the time, until she made peeps.
I loathe to admit it now, but I was actually thinking we might get some poops, too. Hah! Ahahahahaha
I fetched a Blue's Clues book that had a duck with a squeaker embedded in it, and read it once. And again. And again. And again. On the tenth go-round, I decided a glass of juice might get things moving, and another book. A person can only quack so many times in one day, you know.
I provided juice. I provided entertainment. I gave her my undivided attention and she gave me zilch. We even played a game that involved my knees talking to her knees.
I was a potty hostage, and I kept thinking if I befriended my captor, I just might make it out of there.
Bah! Heh! Hee! Hoo! Hmm.
Of course, my stubborn streak said to keep sitting there, she hadn't gone yet and she'd had 900 gallons of juice, two varieties even, and it had been at least an hour and I had to pee just thinking about that, so surely it would happen any second. She was delighted to be sitting there, wasn't making a move to get down.
I sang "The Wheels On The Bus" with a potty theme. The handle on the toilet goes up and down, the water in the bowl goes round and round, the pee pee in the potty goes tinkle tinkle...
*shakes fists at parenting gods, who are smirking and alternately pointing at me and making pissssssss noise behind their hands*
At the 90 minute mark, I really had to pee myself, so I thought a demonstration would be in order. I lifted my little camel off the potty seat, gingerly perched on the Dora seat and said "Okay, Honey, watch Mommy!" Except it was really an audio only program, given the size of Mommy and the reduced dimensions of the Dora seat.
As soon as I started to go, she got the Look. You know, the Aha! Look. She immediately high-tailed it to the living room, leaving me frantically trying to finish going so that I could successfully potty train my child.
Ah, the sound of a full bladder being emptied onto laminate flooring. And then, splashing.
I raced down the hall, pants around my ankles, swooped up my daughter who was doing the Mexican Hat Dance in her puddle, and half screamed, half whined "No, no, no no no NO!" in a pinched voice. I enlisted the hubs to clean up the pee, while I carried my clapping and "Hurray!" shouting daughter back to the bathroom to clean her up.
Is there a lesson in this? I can tell you that I have trained my daughter to believe that if she wants my attention, or a story, or whatever, she can claim to want to use the potty, and I will drop everything and sit there putting on 5-Star entertainment like a suckah.
Oh. My. While I'm in the process of typing this, my girl just announced "Poopie!" and then dropped her diaper and began smacking me with the Blue's Clues duck book. I said "Just a minute." She said "Okay" and immediately started making the poop face and grunting.
Oh, crap. Literally. The first pooball hit the floor beside the computer desk, and as I suspended her from her 'pits and ran to the toilet, she continued to let fly. She did get the last one in the toilet, but my flight path looked like it had been strafed with milk duds.