While many parents I know start potty-training their children from around the age of two, my husband and I left it until just before our daughter turned three. It was partly because we didn’t quite know how to go about it, despite an arsenal of tips from books and well-intentioned friends, and also because diapers are so convenient.
This proved to be one of the rare instances where starting late had its advantages. I know of kids younger than mine who took a few months to master the fine art of “potty-pee” and “potty-poop”, and of parents who dedicated much effort (and creativity) to potty-training – from reward charts to cute clothes.
For us, we simply put her in underwear and shorts, explained to her that she wasn’t wearing diapers anymore, and that she had to let us know when she wanted to go so that we could bring her to the toilet or potty. We scored immediate success and within a few days, she got the hang of it. There were a few boo-boos, of course, including being able to make her own way to the potty but, alas, forgetting to remove her pants before letting go.
It was an enjoyable experience, even amusing at times. Her “I want to wee wee/poo poo” signalled the start of a time attack for the girlracer in me and was always accompanied by a flurry of activity, with my hubby and me sprinting her to the nearest toilet, invariably cutting a few furniture apexes and understeering a little along the way.
The funniest part was that she appeared calm throughout the entire frenzy and simply proceeded to do her business very matter-of-factly upon reaching her perch, or the finishing line for our unofficial race. At this point, a large chequered flag would be waving inside my head and the joy of seeing her accomplish this was a greater reward than any motorsport trophy.
