It’s that time isn’t it? Your child is rapidly approaching the age of three. Pre-school looms on the horizon like the gallows but instead of nooses hanging down there are brightly coloured potties and pants with monster trucks and dinosaurs dangling tauntingly as the bells chime… Other children at toddler groups, younger than yours have suddenly got much smaller bums. Time is running out.
I may have been lulled into a false sense of security by my eldest picking up half decent toilet habits within a couple of weeks of turning three. I never had to deal with a ‘code brown’ on the sofa, or a slow painful transition into and then out of ‘pull ups’ (essentially the equivalent of taking a broken leg out of a stiff cast and winding it up in ten layers of bubble wrap – I’m an all or nothing kind of girl).
But this time, I fear the rules of the game may have changed. My youngest has flirted outrageously with the idea of donning a pair of dino-pants. He picked them out specially. Unfortunately his preferred method of wear so far is either over his nappy or on his head. This does somewhat remind me of the days when his big brother forever wore the potty as a rather natty hat – causing just a little (admittedly unnecessary) anguish over the possibility that we might one day find a rather unsavoury offering inside his dad’s cycling helmet. But I digress.
I have been reliably informed that ‘this is the time to do it!’ – the sun is shining, nudity has suddenly become socially acceptable (I am reminded of that old Marilyn Monroe quote ‘What do I wear in bed? Why Chanel No 5 of course’ only in this case (and possibly muffled and somewhat dummi-fied) it would be ‘what do I wear in the garden? Why Nivea Factor 50 of course’).
Only yesterday at bath time he gleefully accepted the offer to sit on the toddler toilet seat at bathtime and actually did a wee. And it didn’t even miss (‘make sure your willy’s down’ has obviously become the no.1 piece of advice around here in recent times). The clapping and cheering that followed could not have been surpassed if he’d just popped his dummy out and given a word-perfect rendition of Shakespeare’s Sceptred Isle soliloquy, complete with a recommendation for further reading.
So maybe the time *is* right. Or maybe I just have to face up to the fact that it’s going to be a long summer of ‘dino-pant’ Russian Roulette…