Come On, Ride the Potty Train

Potty training your second child is supposed to be easier, right?  You've been the through the process and know the signs.  And better still, your second-born can look to their older sibling as a shining example of mature behavior and desirable bathroom etiquette.

But what if your older sibling does stuff like this?

As many of you know, I watch my neighbor's son three days a week, and we have been working hard to master his potty skills.  Seeing the fruit snack/M&M/Teddy Graham payout that his friend was receiving, Graham decided that he wanted to take a ride on the "potty train".

"I want treat!"

"You want a treat, too?  Well, then you have to go potty on the potty chair!"

"Otay."

So I depantsed him, aligned him properly on the potty so that all parts pointed in the appropriate direction, and, when he wanted me to shut the door for privacy, assured him that I would be back to check on him shortly.

I was so excited for the potential of a diaper-free household that I neglected to consider the possible repercussions of a two- year-old loose in the bathroom.  Naked.

The first time I checked on him I found him standing wet-footed in a puddle of his own making.  I sopped it up with a hand towel and centered him, once again, on the round, blue cushion.

What more could go wrong?

Clunk.  Tap, tap, tap.  It had only been three minutes, so he couldn't have gotten into too much trouble.  Maybe that tapping was his tiny knock at the door to let me know that he had laid a nice, robust log in his white and green potty.  Or maybe he had just lined up some of the bathtub toys and was systematically launching them at the bathroom door.

Yep, that sounds more like it.

I put him back into position, dangled a sack of fruit snacks in front of his face and begged him to stay on the chair or I would put his diaper back on and he would lose his opportunity to rot his teeth with tiny blue and green Toy Story characters. 

"You stay right here.  Don't get up until I come back, okay?"

"Otay."

"If you get up you won't get a snack."

"Otay."

While he was plotting his next move, I gathered up the various articles of urine-soaked clothing that both boys accumulated and carried it to the laundry room to wash.  While standing in the laundry room, a room that shares a wall with the bathroom, I could hear Graham grunting and huffing from his bathroom perch.

I considered the possibilities. 
1.  He's pooping.  (Hallelujah!)
2.  He's training for the Strang Man competition.
3.  He filled the bathub with A&D Ointment and is mud wrestling the cat.

Please let it be the cat.

When I went to check on him, I found Graham, stationed safely on his potty, as he fought fiercely to remove his shirt via an arm hole, with his socks up to his elbows on his arms.  And no poop in the potty.


My first mistake was believing that potty-training Graham might be easy.  My second mistake was trusting that Graham, no matter how sweet, could resist his instinctive drive to vandalize.  Whether it be the kitchen, the bathroom or his own diaper, a two-year old is built to destroy, and no amount of fruit snacks or M&Ms will stand in his way.

For now I'll keep hoping that a new technological breakthrough will train him in a single afternoon.  Is there an app for that?