Potty training: Everything you (probably don't) want to know
Potty training is crap. Literally.
Last night I spent a good 20 minutes of my life using an old toothbrush to dislodge the gigantic turd my son had shoved down the bath plughole. This was not long after I realised he'd been scooping up little nuggets of crap floating about in the bath with the water bottle I take to the gym.
While not directly linked to potty training, this story very much sets the tone very well for the rest of this post.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
Last Christmas, we decided to go balls out. Literally. Nappies were just for night-time – potty training was officially underway. A few people have asked me for some advice on this subject recently, so thought I'd share my findings. Heads up, it ain't pretty.
The decision to start potty training was totally lead by Rex. The big man had been asking more and more to have his nappy taken off and wanting to use the potty. Eamo and I both had some time off over Christmas, so it seemed like as good time as any to see how we got on.
The first few times we went out, I was super-nervous. A kid crapping their pants, in comparison to filling a nappy, is a whole new level of awful. But I knew we couldn't stay in the comfort of our own home forever, so to make things a bit less stressful (for me as much as Rex) I invested in a little carry potty. Hands down, the best £25 I've ever spent.
Rex is at a stage where he insists on doing everything himself, so when this little bag-like potty that he could carry around arrived, he was made up. Especially when he saw it was a cow. The kid is obsessed with them. For me, just knowing I have that little cow poo-catcher makes me so less anxious about going out. It's saved us on numerous occasions when Rex has been caught short. Now we don't go anywhere without it.