Indoctrination Has an Upside

Ch-ch-ch-changes.....Amidst everything else going on with Emerson right now, we are trying to get him to give up his bottle addiction (Robbie finds it humiliating - I could care less except that he's chewing through a $7 nipple every week) and we are beginning the dreaded potty training journey. I was feeling a little overwhelmed at my growing list of motherly duties, so I looked to Barnes and Noble for some outside support.

After scouring the shelves for several minutes while Emerson overcame his fear of Thomas the Train in order to play on the train set, I found two perfect books: No More Bottles for Bunny! and Once Upon a Potty.

Luckily, he LOVES his new books. When Bunny proclaims that bottles are for babies and tosses his bottle into the trash, he eyes the illustration with a mixture of fascination and trepidation. But I have noticed a drop in the number of times he asks for the bottle each day.

The potty book has an equally interesting picture of "poo-poo" in the potty, which he turns to again and again while sitting in the bathroom. The only thing that bothers me about the book (besides an uncomfortably graphic picture of "Joshua's little hole") is that the potty looks like a water pitcher. But whatever, it's doing the trick.

Since these books have been a success so far, I'm going to move onto others that I saw on the shelf, like Hands Are Not for Hitting, Teeth Are Not for Biting and Feet Are Not for Kicking. As he gets older, there's also the dinosaur series: How Do Dinosaurs Clean Their Room?, How Do Dinosaurs Eat Their Food? and How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight? Hopefully he likes dinosaurs.

I figure if indoctrinating my children with books works, I'm going to write a series of them for the teen years and beyond. With titles like Once Upon a Curfew, How Do Teens Pay for Their Own College?, No More Living in Mom and Dad's Basement for Hippo, and Parents Are Not for Putting in Nursing Homes, it's sure to be a success.

I know, I'm hilarious. Now back to researching potty training....

Potty Mouth

A few weeks ago, Emerson started doing some Hammer-esque crotch grabbing to indicate that his diaper was wet, so I taught him the "diaper change" sign. He has been using it pretty regularly since then, which meant it was time to introduce him to his own potty.

I have been dreading potty training since before Emerson was even conceived. And considering how slowly and painfully he has achieved other milestones, I have no illusions that this will go any better. But to my surprise, at least the initial introduction went better than expected.

We spent the majority of that first day playing with it - all three of us crammed into our tiny bathroom we dubbed "the head" since it gives one the distinct impression of being in a submarine. Without any prompting, he immediately sat down on his throne and let out a satisfied sigh. I cringed at how realistic this reenaction was and thought about offering him a magazine to read. But it did not stop there....

Emerson had to sit on the little potty....I had to sit on the big potty...Emerson had to sit on the big potty...we both had to sit on our respective potties and look at each other...the baby had to sit on the little potty....Emerson had to sit on the little potty while holding the baby....etc., etc.

I made an effort to let him watch me anytime I actually had to use the bathroom that day - emphasizing each part of the routine and letting him flush it down. This ended up being a mistake because over and over again he would drag me to the toilet, jab his finger at me like a little dictator and demand, "Go, go, GO!!!" Maybe in my pregnancy days I could've followed his command on the spot, but now not so much.

Since that day, the potty's magic has faded and now he only occassionally sits on it. I'm not entirely sure he understands the point of it considering 1) he insists on being fully clothed while sitting on it and 2) yesterday he pulled it up to the big toilet like he was pulling a chair up to a table. Then he began to scoop imaginary food off the toilet lid and pop it into his mouth, savoring each bite with smacking lips. I'm pretty sure OSHA would not approve of that.

I'm not going to push this experiment further for now, but I know that day of following him around like he's an untrained puppy, anxiously asking "Do you have to go potty?" is coming eventually. In the meantime, at least our bathroom fun has motivated me to keep the toilet so clean you could eat off it.