I walked into daycare yesterday with the LM (Little Miss/Little Monster) in tow. I seriously wish I could figure out how to install gif. Files into my blog because I’m sure I could find a cool little clip on her strut. Anyway, Daycare lady 1 says to me “omg, look at her strutting in here like she owns the place…” to which Daycare lady 2 replies “Haven’t you met LM? She does own the place!” My daughter, ladies and gentlemen. An owner of things. Her space, your space, her pony, her playground…. Her rules. Now, I will take full credit for raising such a hugely confident and independent child because, well I can. But… I’ve come across a problem. Potty Training.
Such a wilful child who is hell bent on never sitting still, how are you supposed to potty train them? I’ve read a few articles and tips on how to potty train in preparation for this momentous occasion and so today marked the first day of no nappies at daycare. She went to school with undies on. See what I did there? Sent her to SCHOOL. To abscond myself from any further responsibility. Well, maybe not so much. I’m not quite sure how she went at school, but I can tell you how we went at home this morning. Let me preface this by saying thank god for a well-balanced diet and no current illness, because if she had the runs, I literally would have just burnt my house down. You also need to imagine this takes place within the space of 10 minutes, she is laughing like a maniacal serial killer as she bolts from one end of the house to the other and I am trying to remain cool, calm and collected but internally I’m pitching a fit.
Poop on her couch. Wet puddle in the hallway. She proudly announces after each effort “POOO POOO MUMMA!” as she runs around holding her crotch. She doesn’t like to sit still while I’m changing her either so we end up with poo in lots of spots around the house. Poop on my couch, poop on her rocking horse because she decided as I was chasing her around that she wanted a ride, poop on the kitchen tiles because she wanted cheese, poop under the dining room table as she crawled under the chairs to evade me and lastly, poop in the bin. She recognised that poop on the floor was an odd place for it to live, so she picked it up with her hands and put it in the bin. Good girl. Not quite what I was after though.
So here’s my question, Mama’s and Dada’s. Got any tips?? This cannot be my life.