Potty Time! Excellent!

February 23, 2012 at 4:08 pm Leave a comment

The Kid is back on potty training! Apparently he is totally psyched to pee in the potty for his mom. He even pees in public restrooms! However, since I am not his mom, and in his mind my main function is to clean up his messes, feed him, and administer entertainment, Potty Time has become just another battleground. An epic, Herculean, Clash of the Titans-esque battleground, which I am doomed to lose in an epic, Herculean, Promethean way. Prometheus– he was the one chained to a rock getting his liver eaten out by an eagle every day, right? Yeah, that’s me, except the Eagle is the Kid, and my sanity stands in for a liver, although this kid may drive me to drink in which case it will be both.

I tried making it fun… “Hey look, sitting on the potty can be a game! Let’s make some token fun rules to follow!”
I tried bribery with all sorts of things… stickers (works for his mom), candy (also works for his mom), fun forbidden art projects (we can use the non-washable markers!), messiness (we can find some puddles to stomp in!)
I tried the pavolvian method… “hey, the alarm is going off, time for the potty!”
I even tried blackmail… “I won’t give you [that thing you asked for] unless you sit on the potty.”
I tried making it into a big deal. “Oh my gosh, it’s POTTY TIME!!! Won’t that be AWESOME?! Let’s SKIP to the potty!”
I tried making it the opposite of a big deal. [look at watch] “Time to sit on the potty. Go.”

All of these things have just made the kid even more determined to not sit on the potty, or if he does, making it the most horrific experience of the day for both of us.

The Kid can’t pee in the potty if there are people present. However, if I turn my back on him for a second, he will
1. take all the TP off the roll and stuff it into the toilet, all the while cackling evilly. He managed to do this with all the TP on the main roll PLUS the entire backup roll that is kept near the toilet. This activity took him about 30 seconds.

2. bang the toilet seat lid repeatedly as hard as he can against the toilet tank making a surprisingly loud and annoying din.

3. play with his junk. I don’t have a problem with junk playing; it’s not the puritanical aspect that concerns me, it’s just that when the junk is being pointed at, say, the ceiling, and peeing does magically occur, you can guess what will happen. I tried to explain this to The Kid, but of course, being 3 years old, the thought of peeing on the ceiling is about the most awesome thing he can think of. So, now if I come in to check on him, he points his junk at me in hopes that if such a miraculous event as as the elimination of urine should occur, it will now happen with force onto my face. He talks about this a lot. He awaits this event with the kind of reverential glee normally reserved for Evangelical Christians awaiting the Rapture.

In addition to all this, getting him on and off the potty results in me getting my hair pulled, my glasses chucked across the room, pinched, my person smacked, kicked and all sorts of other abuse. He has become very elaborate in his threats– he now invokes imaginary monsters from his nightmares to eat me up. His favorite phrases are “I DARE YOU!” and “PROVE IT!” He has no idea what either of these things mean, and for me, the novelty and cuteness of small child misusing grownup phrases wore off weeks ago. These phrases are often accompanied by “shooting” — i.e., The Kid pointing his finger at me and making the unmistakable spitting sound that is his soundtrack to lighting me on fire. Bullets are too wimpy for this kid; he’s gone straight for imaginary flamethrowers.

Time Out has become an exercise in seeing how creatively naughty one can be in another location, and is no longer a punishment or an incentive to be good. Unless I watch him like a hawk, The Kid will spit on the floor, spit on his hands and make pictures with it on the walls, pull on the curtains, grab anything he can reach and throw it at me, scratch the leather couch, and a host of other things which I’m sure haven’t even crossed his mind yet. When I threaten to double his Time Out sentence, he just spits at me and yells “TWO TIME OUTS!” and then demonstrates his counting abilities by repeating it and yelling “THREE TIME OUTS!”

When I give him the Dire Time out by strapping him into his stroller and leaving him in the other room, he just retaliates by screaming my name and rocking his stroller causing it to bang against the floor as loud as possible until I let him out.

Right now The Kid is playing with Play Doh and yelling “AINA!!! get me some…. some… uh… some… uh…” he can’t even think of what he wants to command me to do; he just wants to command me to do something.

::sigh::

I’ve been at this a day and a half.

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Entry filed under: The Kid.

Happy Valentine’s Day! Penises = not mysterious.

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