Today seemed like a good day to potty train my son. The birds were chirping happily outside, everyone was in a good mood, my coffee tasted unusually good.
All the signs pointed to it being the right time: my toddler not wanting me to change his diaper; him trying to assert his independence with so many things lately; him being almost 27 months; us having reached a reasonable level of communication; me being sick of changing fifteen diapers per day.
But. As the morning progressed, it became clear that my wonderful idea was actually a crap idea that was not going to work.
This is the series of events.
Monday night: I have good intentions of reading my potty training book of choice cover to cover. What happens instead is, I skim over it at 11 p.m. barely able to keep my eyes open.
Tuesday: realizing I probably should have read the damn book, I attempt to cajole my toddler to the potty with an array of positive words and encouraging sounds. His response is to ignore me and refuse to go near the potty.
The potty sits untouched.
Tuesday afternoon: Feeling defeated, I console myself by raiding the snacks purchased earlier for potty training purposes and tell myself I will try again tomorrow.
Tuesday night: I really read the book (at least the essential bits anyway).
Wednesday morning: I am prepared for action and armed with all the necessary props, treats and underwear. Success is surely imminent. Unfortunately I don't have a peeing doll, like the book suggests, so I make my own version by attaching a squirty bottle to the back of a stuffed bunny.
Impressed? Matthew was not.
10 a.m: Matthew watches my little bunny-using-potty demonstration with complete disdain and proceeds to rip the bottle from the bunny and squirt water all over the bathroom floor.
10:15 a.m: We discuss the idea that big boys don't need diapers, they need big boy pants. And by discuss, I mean, I explain this idea and he continues to squirt water all over the floor.
10:30 a.m: About an hour is spent learning to take underwear on and off, getting up and down from the potty, and sitting on the potty eating chocolates, reading books.
11 a.m: Matthew struts around in his new underwear, with me following him asking, every three minutes, "are you wet or dry?", which he ignores, instead asking me "where my truck?".
Some time later: Several accidents are had with no warnings or reactions, despite my efforts.
Some time later: I contemplate how much easier this would be with only one child to look after.
3 p.m: With not an ounce of luck, I realize Matthew is NOT ready for potty training and put away underwear and all potty training thingies.
There you have it. The end of potty training for now. I can tell it's not the right time. I have a feeling we'll try again in a few months and it will happen easily, when the time is right for him.