You know the scene in The Omen where Damien merrily cycles up to his mother and knocks her over the banisters? That wasn't, as the film says, to prevent her from giving birth to another child.
Oh no. It was in retaliation for making him do a shit on the toilet.
Now, I am not saying that my child is the antichrist. Obviously, I immediately checked her head for the mark of the beast the first time she threw an epic tantrum and projectile vomited all over the kitchen wall because I wouldn't let her chew on the cat's tail. With no sign of the mark of the beast to be found, I diagnosed her as merely being a massive arsehole, aka a normal toddler.
This week, I decided to potty train her almost three-year-old, stubborn, unwilling self. It hasn't gone well. She lulls me into a false sense of security by telling me she needs a wee (the word 'wee' was painstakingly put into her vocabulary after her teenage brother told her it was called piss), and then pulling down her pants and proudly filling her potty.
Every time she manages to go on the potty, there is cheering, clapping, kinder eggs and so much praise that you think she'd just found the cure for cancer. Then she wets herself three times in succession, despite being gently asked if she needs the potty.
My world collapses and my parental self esteem plummets once again, and just as I am about to crack open the Huggies and give up, she walks into the kitchen with a potty full of that beautiful, yellow liquid, proclaiming that she wee'd on the potty because she is a big girl.
More praise, more clapping, more chocolate and a nomination for an MBE.
Cue more pissy pants in the hours following.
"Why didn't you use the potty?" I say as I put yet another pair of My Little Pony Pants on her.
"Didn't want to, it's rubbish," comes her reply.
"Well, we'll try again next time, okay?"
"Hmmm, I might do. But I'll see," she says with the attitude of a 13-year-old.
This is why she is such an terror. She knows exactly what is going on, but will only do what she wants to do when she wants to do it. She is capable of using the potty and recognising when she needs to go - sometimes, she is just an arse about it.
You know you are a potty training parent when the sight of a potty full of piss is the most beautiful, wonderful thing you could ever lay your eyes on.
She even did a poo on it once and it felt like I'd won the lottery. Only it was just the first part of the poo - the rest was squeezed out into clean pants while squatting behind the sofa.
I just hope she doesn't get too angry and do a Damien on me.
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