Adventures of Tom’s Potty

What I know I know about potty training

As an “expert” in potty training, allow me to tell you everything I know:

• Public restrooms are dirty
• Toddler boys aren’t really tall enough to pee in a urinal, even the children’s urinal
• Men are literally dicks, and will pee in said children’s urinal, even if you’re prepping your child to use it…DICKS I TELL YA!

You’ll note that

1. I don’t know much about potty training
2. I worry way too much about public restrooms

Let me tell you something; every parent I’ve talked to about potty training has clued me in to this simple fact, “No one actually knows anything about getting their children to use the toilet.”

Also, once you start the journey of potty training, you’ll be thinking a lot about public restrooms. You’ll be the parenting version of Jason Bourne:

• Identifying the nearest seven bathrooms every time you walk into a building
• Finding seats nearest to the bathroom while at a restaurant
• Stabbing a dude in the hand with a pen to ensure you get your kid to a bathroom in time (That hasn’t happened…yet.)

Beginning the potty training journey

Tom was getting to an age where his lack of toilet use was starting to get in the way. He only recently turned three, but was told he was mature enough to start taking Tae Kwon Do lessons with four year olds, if only he was potty trained. He’ll start kindergarten in the fall, and a requirement is, you guessed it, he needs to be potty trained.

We had tried to get him excited about the prospect of using the toilet. My wife made a huge poster-sized sticker chart to reward him for trying, for peeing and for pooping. Every time he peed he received a very small toy (He’d receive a large toy for pooping, you know, if he would have ever pooped on the toilet). The price on that could have really racked up, but he was only using the toilet about every 3rd or 4th day, when we forced him, wile crying, onto the toilet.

After sitting Tom down, and promising him the world if only he’d try to more consistently use the toilet, we figured we needed another tactic

Getting your boy excited about the potty

Two things were able to excite Tom about potty training.

Underwear

Tom is obsessed with the Ninja Turtles. He saw a package of Turtles underwear my wife had bought for him, and accidentally left out. He needed to wear them. In order to wear them, we told him, he’d need to use the potty like a big boy. He obliged, and went the rest of that day, and the next, without a major incident. It was absolutely amazing.

We’re only a few weeks into this, but my wife has stopped putting diapers on him for naps. She doesn’t believe the fight to remove the underwear is worth the risk of him wetting the bed. He’s taken to underwear like an absolute trooper.

The manly art of peeing outside

After transitioning to underwear, we headed out to Tom’s grandparents’ house. They live in the woods, and therefore have copious choices for urination targets. Teaching him that boys were able to pee on trees made his little mind explode at the possibilities.

He peed on a tree approximately four times that night. Small warning: Make sure your boy knows he can pee on any tree. Tom had to pee on the same tree. Every. Time.

¯_(ツ)_/¯

Paying for the Ps

We’ve resorted to paying Tom or his pee and poop. The first week or so it really paid off. He was excited for the coins, and asked every time he went.

As the weeks progress he’s asked for the coins less and less. He’s using the toilet as habit now. And that’s just plain great.

Where the heck is Huck

You know, I haven’t talked about Huck recently. He’s still around, being a little toddler. I’ll have more about him soon. However, there’s great news about having your kids close together: They teach each other how to use the restroom. Huck now grabs his junk and grunts in the general direction of the bathroom. We strip him down, sit him on the kid seat, and he tries to pee. Sometimes he’s even successful.

Afterwards, he points at the sink to wash his hands, and then grins as he deposits a coin into the coin jar. Not too shabby at 17 months, if I do say so myself. Which I do.