24 November 2007

Too Old To Be Cute and The Potty Training Dilemma

Isn't 4 a little young to start getting upset about being called a "cutie pie"? I thought so, but apparently, I would be mistaken.

I took the girls with me to the LYS (local yarn store) this morning and one of the employees remembered the girls right away when we walked in. "Here come the cutie pies!" she said. A. turned to me after hearing that. "I'm NOT a cutie pie!" she insisted. "Yes, you are." I said, hoping the lady didn't hear A., and shoving her just gently enough to keep moving into the store and away from the door. I got them settled in "the nook" where there are toys, and pastries and pencils and paper- all put there specifically for the purpose of entertaining children and husbands whose idea of fun is not pawing through a colorful menagerie of various types of wool. My lys is probably the only place I can go to buy things where I'm not corralling my kids through the store in fear of them being snatched or walking too far away from me and getting lost. It's fabulous, and the employees are wonderful! I think it helps that the girls get a lollipop from the nice ladies when it's time to leave. Every time. Last time, they even scored pencils. Which reminds me that I need to get sharpeners for them, since I only use pens, there aren't really any laying around. And I think a steak knife would probably not be an appropriate tool for pencil sharpening. At least, not for two preschoolers. A. spends the next several seconds trying to convince me that she's not a cutie because she's not a baby ( I swear to you she said that. I have no idea where she learned this from.) and we must correct the nice lady who is clearly mistaken. I try distracting her with some toys and head to the aisle where the Encore worsted is being held, in search of a turquoise color for someone who is commissioning me for a project. Luckily, they had the exact color I was looking for in the exact brand of yarn, and was ready to make my purchase within a matter of minutes. A. was deeply involved in putting the white shorts back onto the tiny teddy bear, and S. was engrossed with some other plush type mammalian toy. Neither of them wanted to leave. Of course. This is the price I pay for bringing them to a place where they can enjoy playing while I enjoy shopping. Getting them out of the store is like pulling teeth. With greased up tweezers. Once we were in the car, A. reminds me that she is not a cutie pie because she is not a baby. And that lady should not call her a cutie pie again. "Mmmmhmmmm." I say as I think- isn't she a little young to be starting with this already?

On another note, we (meaning, "I") are having an interesting time potty training S.. A few weeks ago we were in the mall and S. needed to be changed. So we headed to the family restroom with the kid sized potty along with an adult sized potty, and one of those koala changing stations. A. decides she needs to potty as I'm changing S., so she goes to the big potty and does her thing. After changing S. I washed my hands, and when I was finished, noticed that S. had taken down her pants and pull-up and plopped herself on the potty. I wasn't in any hurry, so I stood there and played with my phone while I waited for the girls to finish up. I didn't really expect S. to use the potty because I've been trying the whole put-her-in-panties-and-let-'er-rip method of potty training on and off since earlier this year. Our most recent attempt, which was not too long ago, was a complete failure, much like all our other attempts. So she was once again in pull-ups until I regained the stamina necessary to shampoo piss off the carpets every half hour or so. And did I mention the laundry and constant bathing?

So I'm standing at the sink and A.'s finished washing her hands when I hear that wonderful sound of urine streaming into the toilet. And it was coming from S.! "You're going pee-pee!" I exclaimed. She smiled at me from the potty. "yeah." She said. I was so excited and so thrilled! But I didn't have any candy to reward her because, who would think a potty training kid would pee in public when they won't use the potty at home?! Dairy Queen was just outside the rest room area, so I stopped in there and bought her a child sized vanilla cone ( have you ever bought a child sized cone from DQ? The meager amount of soft serve you get for $1 truly astonished me! There probably wasn't even a full ounce of soft serve in that damn cone!) Anyways, I got her a cone, we sat down while she relished in her reward and then went about our evening. The incident must surely have been a fluke, I told myself.

Some fluke… she did it again in the mall a week later and was again rewarded with the perfect amount of DQ soft serve in a cone. A. was upset that she didn't get a cone, even after I explained to her why S. got one and she didn't. Her solution was to manipulate S. into giving her the cone for a few licks by hugging and kissing her and telling her how much she loved her. Which may sound innocent enough, until you stop to consider that this usually happens in such manner when S. has something A. wants. And it worked like a charm! S. was thrilled to be able to share her prize with her older sis. So that was that. And then we were at the library this last Tuesday for story time and as I was browsing through some books S. suddenly stopped, pushed her knees together and assumed the pee-pee stance. "Potty!" she said. "I have to go potty!" So off to the potty we go. The following statement will likely sound ludicrous, but if you are currently potty training, or have ever potty trained (those of you who potty trained your kid in a day don't count. Sorry) then you'll understand. When S. began to pee in the potty at the library I was completely flabbergasted! For the third time in 2 weeks she not only peed in a public restroom, but told me she had to pee before she actually went pee! There was no DQ nearby, so she didn't get a cone (which turned out to be a dangerous precedent to set, by the way. Because now when we go to the mall she thinks she's going to get a cone from there). I may have thought of something else in the meantime. I now have hershey's kisses in a sandwich bag in my purse.

So then I was left scratching my head- because just the day before I put her in panties thinking she'd go potty at home since she was doing it while we were out. But had no such luck. How do I get this kid to pee at home? I wondered to myself. We simply cannot afford to hang out at the mall all day until she's potty trained. Otherwise, that would be a fantastic solution to a fairly strange dilemma.

But then tonight she said she was wet so I went to change her and noticed her pull-up was dry so I walked her into the bathroom and let her climb onto the potty. Where she went! I was so excited! And she got a chocolate and she was excited! And then fifteen minutes later she did it again! Might we be making progress?!! God, one can only hope. I do have to say that this book I checked out may be helping- I took it out and started reading to her while she sat on the potty and she really likes it. It's called Tinkle Tinkle Little Tot and is compiled of (rather ridiculous) rhymes for potty training. So ridiculous, in fact, that some rhymes I just could not bring myself to read aloud. Gems such as:

Itsy-bitsy-poo-poo (sung to the tune of the istsy-bitsy spider)

An itsy-bitsy poo poo

Was floating in the bowl.

I wiped my bum with paper

And flushed it down the hole.


And


Toilet paper squares

One square, two square, three square, four-

Do not sprinkle on the floor.

Five square, six square, seven square, eight-

flush the toilet, you did great!


Regardless of how I personally feel about some of these rhymes, S. loved them in general, and the last time she went to sit on the potty she told me to come along and read to her from the book! I suppose I'll be committing a (very select) few to memory before it's time to return the book. Whatever works, right?



1 comment:

Rachel said...

Laughing hysterically yet very sympathetically.
;-) Thanks for the great giggles and those gagtastic rhymes.