Meet my nemesis:
I hate you- you stupid, smelly, ugly toddler potty. I’m sick of cleaning you upwards of ten times a day. You smell. You make me want to vomit- especially when you are full of nasty stinky toddler poops. I hope you die a slow and painful death that includes fire, tarantulas, razor blades, and Barney tunes.
Phew! I feel better now.
So, I guess you know where this is going. It’s time to ditch the toddler potty. So, I bought one of these:
It seemed like a reasonable compromise. Emma did not think so. She hated it. She refused to use it. Well, actually, she used it to go pee on the big toilet. Big whoop. Cleaning a little pee pee out of a toddler potty isn’t so bad. It’s the big stinking turds that I have a problem with. But, I don’t care what she thinks because I took a stand. The toddler potty is out of here.
How did she react? By going on a poop strike, of course.
At day one , I wasn’t too worried. She doesn’t always poop every day. By day two, I was expecting her to cave. “Go ahead and try to hold it in girlfriend,” I told her. “There is only one way that poo poo is coming out.” By day three, I started to get paranoid.
If history likes to repeat itself, and you know it does, there was a very good chance that Emma’s poop was going to end up on the floor, and not in the toilet. We’ve been down this path before.
I started watching her like a hawk. I knew she was trying to get out of my sight so she could wander into a dark corner of the house a drop a deuce, but it was not going to happen. Not on my watch.
We managed to make it the entire day without any poop on the floor, but we didn’t get any in the toilet either. When my husband came home from work, I gave him an update on the poop strike, and headed to my bedroom to nurse the baby. Emma followed, as she always does, and played with a basket of toys I keep for her on the floor at the foot of my bed.
I realized about ten minutes later that I hadn’t heard anything from her. I called for her. She was totally M.I.A. Then, I smelled it. Oh yes, there was feces, human feces, somewhere in my room. I frantically started calling for my husband. “Get in here!” I yelled. “You have got to find the poop and get it out of here! I’m dying! I’m going to barf! Hurry, hurry!”
He walked in the room and started searching for the elusive poo poo. It only took him about a minute to find it. You know why? It was RIGHT NEXT TO MY BED. In order to give you the most accurate account of the story, I have included an image:
I know it’s gross. I had to do it. Sorry. Just so you can fully understand what I’m talking about, do you see that brown fabric in the lower left hand corner of the photo? That’s my EFFING BED SKIRT! OMG. OMG. OMG. OMG. Thank god I didn’t step in it.
What was she thinking? I cannot believe she walked right next to my bed, squatted down, and took a dump like six inches from me. Plus, how did I not hear her? That girl has some amazing ninja-like pooping skills, I tell you.
So, the toddler potty has made a re-appearance.
Toddler Potty: 1
I will destroy you, Toddler Potty. You are going down. This is not over.
You can read about how this all got started here: The Poo Poo Goes in the Potty