I'd been advised to take a week off work to potty train Sproglet - but with a mere 5 weeks holiday a year, to say I wasn't keen is an understatement. I'd bought a blue potty - Sproglet wouldn't even look at it. I'd got one from his nursery, given him ownership of it, decorated it with happy Night Garden creatures - he showed it proudly to Husband. I asked him if he wanted to sit on it - a resounding NO. I had visions of him in adult diapers heading to Uni.
Then lo and behold on Thursday wee Sproglet piped up in his bath that he wanted to wee and was happy as Larry to be placed on the toilet (toilet duck supporting him), water dripping everywhere but not a drop of wee in sight. He swung his wee legs and looked around - intent on pushing his bits well within the toilet parameters. We waited. He claimed to have weed and returned to his soapy lather. Same happened on fri - but this time, a trickle of wee!
The sun burst out of the heavens at the weekend and after a busy Saturday, we bit the bullet, ran with the gauntlet and put Sproglet in pants. He asked to wee when it started to appear - and a miracle potty wee happened. Steven Gerrard winning the European Champions league after being 3 nil down in 2005 didn't feel as victorious as I did. Sproglet was delighted and all day asked when he needed it. Sometimes there were golden gifts - other times an empty bowl.
All has been good bar one accident - thankfully at nursery, and they had the decency to throw away the soiled underwear - until today. Sproglet you see, in pants, has discovered he is that bit more able to, how shall I put this, check that he is all there - at all times. His prodding and checking has made the whole area inflamed and bleeding. Yuk! I had to take him to to the docs today - and the wee mite was in agony. That'll learn him! Hands out of pants please!
We got cream, he had a bath, but has refused all potty offers since. While my childless mates sip wine by the canal, I am tending to infected willies. Oh the joy.
Bless him - that cream had better work miracles overnight or the wee man's bladder will explode before he pees razor blades. Thank god this weekend is school mates reunion - a annual event where we ditch men, children and morals and pitch up at someone's house to eat, drink, and inevitably collapse in front of the tv at about 11pm, unused to the intoxicating freedom that the brief lack of responsibility brings.
Let's hope Sproglet is back on the potty again - or I don't know how Husband will cope. Anyway, he has the same equipment - he should know what to do. Men and their bits - a life long love affair I will never understand...
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