Poot and Cubby

-In the beginning of training, sometimes little people are just too busy playing to stop to pee in the proper place.

-If you don’t expect perfection, you won’t be suitably shocked when your daughter is pretending to put you down for a nap (does the fun of this game never end?) and you feel a warm sensation on your back. And she announces, “I peed my socks.” Pause. “Uh oh. I peed on you too, mommy.”

-Nor will you be surprised when after an accident-free day at daycare, when you go to pick her up, she proclaims, “I poop” and bursts into tears. At first you think she means “poop” in the past tense, but you come to a grim realization as you see a football-shaped lump sticking out of her pantied butt that she has in fact done it just that moment. Welcome back, mommy!

-Once the child discovers the wild adventure that is the public restroom, she may liken it to a free amusement park. Conquering strange potties, endlessly washing hands and drying them with coveted paper towels, only to return 5 minutes later for a repeat performance will provide hours of entertainment one can only compare to a fantastic acid-trip. For her. You may find yourself trying to jimmy up a noose with some disposable seat covers and toilet paper.

-You will be amazed at how fast she learns and marvel about how something as banal as using the toilet has suddenly become an event of Academy Award Show proportions. You secretly feel superior to all parents whose child refuses to poop on the toilet; you too assumed this would be a long and bitter battle. You will high-five and hug her as she delightedly looks at the log of her labor. You will entertain thoughts that a kid that can learn this fast is surely a genius (and you didn’t even eat fish while you were pregnant!) and will soon become ruler of the world. Then your thoughts may linger back towards the reality that you will have to do this again with Child #2 and perhaps your old foe, Universe, is setting you up for a fall in making this first one so easy. You envision yourself in a few years shaking your fists at the sky, cursing the day you thought potty training was “no big deal”, as you clean up the feces your son has secretly deposited behind the television.