Let’s be real: I was not in a hurry to potty train my daughter. While my sister-in-law was practically counting down the days and every parenting blog I followed showcased toddlers in underwear, I took a rather relaxed (read: lazy) approach. I casually asked her, “Hey, how about we trade those diapers for the potty?” The response was always a long pause followed by, “No thanks, Mama.” And so, we continued.
Eventually, I decided to try a rewards system. Weekly, two bags of gummy bears made their way into my grocery cart. The deal was simple: one for sitting, two for peeing, and a small handful for a successful poop. She was all in, filling her little princess potty like a champ before kindergarten orientation. So, I couldn’t have been a total flop of a mom.
But here’s a little secret no one warns you about: a three-year-old is incapable of properly wiping her own bottom. Honestly, I’m almost 37, and I can still find myself one wipe away from total cleanliness—particularly in Walmart, of all places. Expecting a newly diaper-free toddler to have the coordination to wipe effectively is like asking her to assemble a complicated LEGO set while I shout about how to manage the truth.
It just wasn’t happening.
To my surprise, she wasn’t even really interested in toilet paper. According to every YouTube video ever, kids love to play with that fluffy roll. But when I asked her to grab some and prepare it for wiping, she carefully tore off a quarter of a square, rolled it into a tiny, pea-sized ball, and proceeded to wipe with that. Yes, you guessed it—she lost it in the abyss and used her hand to transfer mess from point A (her behind) to point B (her hands).
I admit it: I gagged. Then I laughed. Who has the answer to this riddle? I found myself reminiscing about the days of diapering a tiny bum and tossing that neatly wrapped package into the diaper genie. Now, my reality included:
- Sitting with her while she swings her legs, asks about my day, and then makes that exaggerated poop face while her cheeks flush.
- Leaning over the toilet to help her wipe.
- Helping her flush, then spraying bleach because suddenly her poop is a monstrous creation, sticking to the toilet as a reminder of her questionable diet (which, of course, I’m accountable for).
- Opening the footstool for her (thanks to previous pinching incidents) so she can reach the tap.
- Giving her “privacy” by leaving the bathroom.
- Checking back in to ensure she’s not touching my stuff.
- Coming back to adjust the water temperature.
- Peeking in again to make sure my belongings are safe.
- Assisting her with soap so she uses equal amounts on both hands, because math is crucial at three.
- Finally, turning off the stove to investigate after she’s been “washing her hands” for six minutes, grinning at me from the mirror while water cascades off the counter.
So, next week, I’m going radical: she’s going back to diapers. This is part of my innovative parenting strategy, which I’m calling Reverse Tiger Helicopter. When I write my book about it (Wipe Out!), I’ll become so wealthy that by the time she’s in school, she’ll have her own personal butt wiper.
It’s a dream, folks, but every great reality starts as one.
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