Further adventures in potty training

EJ on the jobI remember those early-ish days with JJ, my eldest, when me and my NCT friends began discussing the possibility of second children. We all knew that most siblings turn out like chalk and cheese so half of us got to feel a little bit smug while the other half laughed nervously and we all secretly crossed our fingers and hoped for the best.

For my part, I just longed for a child who would be chilled, completely by-pass the five hour an evening colicky screaming session, sleep half decently and just be contented. Don’t get me wrong, I love JJ with all my heart but unfortunately I will never be able to look back on the baby days through rose-coloured spectacles. It was sheer hell.

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Mind your own ‘business’

Potty lion in dino pants

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).

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