Grammy's Potty Training Boot Camp

I have been hesitating to write about this subject because 1. it is too much information and 2. I was afraid I would jinx the success, as if you can jinx the ability to go in a toilet. I don't know, maybe you can. So here I am, throwing caution to wind, writing about my son's potty-training experience.

Our previous forays into potty-training were met with resistance from the trainee. He was, how do I put this?, lazy. Yes, LAZY. He would sit in his own filth. He objected, sometimes violently, to being changed. He just didn't care. Candy and other treats could not pursuade him to visit the toilet. He liked his way of doing business, pardon the pun.

I didn't really care too much about it. I have never been one to want my kids to move onto the next developmental stage because inevitably it means more work for me. Kids who crawl get into things. Kids who walk really get into things. Kids who are potty-trained have to stop at every disgusting gas station and mall restroom. In spite of the cost, diapers were Ok with me.

Until I learned that Abe could not advance to the 3 year old class at preschool next year unless he was fully potty-trained. WHAT!?? The thought of Abe not being able to attend the preschool next year caused me great anxiety which in turn caused me to act.

So, I called my mother. She agreed to take Senor Stinkypants for a vaca in Florida. She even agreed to try to potty train him. No argument from me.

And so, presto Grammy magic, Abe came home to me 10 days later in big boy pants. He hasn't had an accident since. Thanks Mom! You could charge a lot of money for this service.