On the day that I wore a pair of killer stiletto heeled ankle boots my five (I’m nearly six) year old son looked at me, looked at my boots looked outside and said:
“The sky is like a river. You look beautiful Mummy” and then, after a dramatic pause
“Mummy, why do you always wear such long shoes?”
By long shoes I assume that he means high shoes or high ankle boots to be exact. But one never knows with five year olds and one can never assume anything with children.
A corporate lawyer whom I once worked told me that you only need to do something once successfully in a new area of law to be classified as an expert in that area forever after. The same adage does not apply to toilet training toddlers.
We are trying to potty train the Minx at present. The process officially started on the day that I wore these stiletto boots and finished in tears (mine) on Easter Monday (yesterday).
We had a straight forward potty training plan entirely based on the straightforward potty training plan that we used for the Noisy Boy 3 years ago. Without the copious chocolate bribes though, we were determined that we weren’t going down that route.The Easter Weekend seemed like a sensible time to start bearing in mind that the virtually the whole of Australia shuts down on Good Friday and Easter Sunday. What else would we be doing with ourselves other than spending quality time with our children at home.
Did I mention that it is virtually impossible to buy alcohol in Australia on a Good Friday? Not that I would normally have noticed until I realised halfway through the day that nailing jelly to a brick wall was probably easier than potty training the Minx.
All the tried and tested potty training methods that worked so well with the Noisy Boy have proved to be completely useless in the face of the Minx’s dogged resistance.
Star charts? She licks the stickers until they fall off and then hides them in her underwear.
Reading stories to her while on the potty? After two hours of doing this, she had bright red potty impact marks on her bum and I had to go to the toilet myself. One my return she was standing in the middle of a huge puddle of urine on kitchen floor.
By 3.00 pm on Good Friday I was wondering if the other parishioners would notice if I drank all the communion wine.
By 3.00 pm on Saturday we had given in and started sticking chocolate in her gub every time she sat on the potty. She started breaking it up into bits and dropping it into the bowl saying “Poo mummy, I did a poo“.
There really are much nicer ways to spend one’s Easter Weekend than this. We could have taken the kids to the museum or the circus or the zoo or the beach or counted traffic cones.
As it turned out, I spent quite a lot of time looking at one of my favourite shoe sites – The Virtual Shoe Museum – a repository of the weird and the wonderful, the perverse and the peculiar. There are shoes that look like Burmese cats sniffing the ground complete with a pink suede bell and collar:
toeless boots that look like they were conceived by a mediaeval torturer:
and a myriad of other pictures and shoe resources that effectively took my mind off the smell of urine and stopped me going completely bonkers during the purgatory of our Easter Holiday weekend.
To try to make things up to the Five Year Old (“Mummy, why do we all have to look at her using the potty?” “Be quiet dear, have another chocolate egg“) I searched the Virtual Museum for “long shoes“.
The Noisy Boy’s personal favourites were these Top Gear shoes (Race Shoes by Shani Bar:
While mine are these supremely long and precariously pointy toed stilettos by RoSa shoes
So the weekend was not a total loss.
This morning was the first day back at daycare for the Minx. The daycare centre director listened to me sympathetically when I regaled her with our tragic toilet training tale. Then she looked at the Minx and back at me and laughed. Apparently, last Thursday the Minx had taken her by the hand, looked deep into her eyes and said:
“I need to go to the toilet“.
Then she did.