D shows off the potty
Something thrilling happened this week: Diana did her first wee in a potty.
Now, this news is hardly riveting given what's going on in the world, but for the mother of a toddler (who hasn't begun potty training yet, I might add), it's very exciting, especially since I imagine the road to a fully toilet-trained toddler is fraught with lots of frustration. So it's nice to start off - before technically starting - on a high note.
I'm pretty sure the only reason this wee happened is because I had utterly decided against the idea of training D until I felt she was really ready and wanted to do it.
I'll admit that when I first found out I was pregnant, one of my idyllic mum-of-two visions (which somehow always involve me looking glowing in the sunshine and dressed in a printed, flowing maxi dress, so clearly belong to another woman who doesn't live in rainy London) consisted of a fully potty-trained Diana who would helpfully watch and aid me while changing her newborn sibling, smiling and giggling about how babies need nappies but she was a 'big girl' now.
Once Diana's second birthday came and went in August, and I realised that D had absolutely no interest in potty training whatsoever at the moment - which I'm absolutely fine with - I abandoned any inkling of an idea to pursue this potty training thing until after babe number two's arrival in the new year.
One of the issues I've heard about with potty training is that some children who have some mastery of the potty end up wanting to regress back to the nappy stage once a new baby is in the house, which sounds like a whole lot of additional stress that I don't need and probably wouldn't handle very well in the early days of having a newborn and subsisting on no sleep while feeling like a professional milk cow.
Even though I decided I didn't want to start potty training D yet, I didn't say 'No' when my friend offered up her daughter's old potty that she no longer needed, mainly because it would save me the hassle of buying one (so many to choose from!) Plus, it's hot pink. I knew it would be a winner.
It's been sitting on a shelf in the bathroom, and for the past few weeks, Diana has been sitting on it before her bath, pretending to use it, which she finds delightful. Apparently, getting comfortable with the potty is one of the early steps in getting a child potty-ready, so I'm happy to indulge my daughter.
D is so into the potty, she even wants to read about them, so we've been busy following the riveting adventures of princesses and little girls picking out potties, having their first successes (and subsequent accidents) and swapping nappies for pretty frilly underpants.
Last week, after one of D's pre-bath potty play times, she stood up and the miracle had happened. I wish I could pretend I handled it gracefully, but I ran through the house shrieking 'She's AMAZING! She DID IT! LOOK! LOOK!' and trying to point out the contents of the potty without spilling them to Daddy, who was on a business call and looked less than impressed when I barged into the room holding a pot of urine.
Then I praised D to excess some more and gave her a sticker, and I could tell she was so proud of herself. It was a great moment.
Unfortunately, this might all be a disaster waiting to blow up in my face. Since I've firmly decided against potty training for the time being, I haven't actually read anything on the subject yet, so have no clue what I'm doing.
If this does work out somehow, I can already envision my book on stress-free, unintentional potty training. I think I'll call it: Happy Accidents.