Let’s be honest, I was not exactly in a rush to potty train my daughter. While my mother-in-law was practically counting down the days and every parenting blog I followed showcased their little ones in underwear before they could even walk, I took a much more relaxed (read: lazy) approach. My method? Casually asking her every now and then, “Hey, how about we ditch the diapers and use the potty instead?” The response was always a drawn-out pause followed by a firm, “No thanks, Mama.” So, we continued on.
Eventually, I caved and decided to introduce a reward system for using the toilet. Into the grocery cart went two bags of Skittles each week. The deal was simple: one for a sit, two for a pee, and a small handful for a poop. She loved it. Before kindergarten orientation, she was proudly filling that little Princess Potty. I felt like I was doing okay as a mom.
But here’s the thing no one warns you about: a three-year-old simply cannot wipe herself properly. Honestly, I’m nearly 37 and even I sometimes find myself in that all-too-familiar situation (usually at the most inconvenient times, like in the middle of a store) where I realize I might have missed a spot. Expecting a toddler, fresh out of diapers, to have the dexterity to clean her bottom is like asking her to thread a needle while I shout about the importance of precision.
She wasn’t even really interested in toilet paper, which was surprising since every parenting video online shows kids having a blast with the fluffy roll. The first time I asked her to grab some toilet paper and crumple it for the pre-wipe process, she carefully tore off a tiny piece, shaped it into a pea-sized ball, and proceeded to wipe. (Spoiler: she ended up using her whole hand, transferring mess from point A to point B.) I won’t lie, it made me gag, but I couldn’t help but chuckle. Who has the solution to this dilemma? I long for the days of neatly wrapping up a tiny diaper and tossing it away. Now I’m faced with:
- Sitting with her while she swings her legs and asks about my day, all while making that peculiar “I’m about to poop” face.
- Hovering over her and the open toilet as I help clean her up.
- Assisting her in flushing the toilet and then dousing it with bleach, since her latest creations are reminiscent of a giant wrestler’s leftovers, sticking like a bad memory of her less-than-stellar diet (which, let’s be real, I contribute to).
- Adjusting her footstool, since she pinched her skin trying to reach the sink last week, leaving bruises behind.
- Stepping out to give her “privacy.”
- Returning to ensure she isn’t getting into my stuff (because, you know, she’s four).
- Checking in again to adjust the water temperature.
- Peeking in to confirm she’s not rummaging through my belongings again.
- Helping her pump soap into her hands (and then adjusting the amount because the second pump was always way too much).
- Dashing away from the stove to check on her when she’s still “washing her hands” six minutes later, all while she beams at me in the mirror as water cascades off the counter onto her little feet.
So, here’s the plan: next week, she’s going back into diapers. I’m testing out a revolutionary parenting strategy I’m calling Reverse Tiger Helicopter. Once I write my book titled Wipe Out!, I’ll be rich enough that when she goes to school, she can hire her own personal butt-wiper.
It’s a lofty dream, but that’s how all great ideas begin.
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