We have a rather interesting potty training strategy around here.
Let me rephrase that.
We’re pretty lazy when it comes to potty training. Our strategy is, in fact, pretty much non-existent.
Mainly because I have a serious aversion to cleaning accidents up off the floor. So while the idea of letting my child run around naked for days at a time sounds tempting to try (and I’ve heard it works wonders with other people’s kids), I just can’t bring myself to do it.
Personally, I’d prefer to just kill a tree and throw another Huggies in the diaper champ.
I know. That’s so not green. But sometimes the stuff that comes out of my children is green. Which is another reason why the thought of scraping it off the floor doesn’t sit well with me.
That lovely context behind us, I’m happy to say that, by about age three, Bobo was more or less going on the big girl on a consistent basis. But it didn’t come without some outside assistance.
Truth be told, our potty training salvation was delivered to us one day in an unlikely form.
Meet Bessie. Our salvation.
She’s a rather ingenious contraption, really. You fill the cow with candy (we used M&M’s), push on its butt, and… Voila! Out pops an emmie.
And, for those who are curious, there are two ways to fill the cow. You can either twist the head off and pour in the candy, or you can carefully insert them one by one through the other end. It goes without saying that I chose the bovine enema method, which made me giggle each time I had to fill her up.
Coincidentally, Bobo also thought it was great fun to make Bessie poop.
So we started offering a little treat each time she used the potty. Our reward system was carefully calculated:
- If you go #1, you’d get one M&M turd.
- For a #2, the cow would squeeze out two little nuggets.
- For a combined #1 and #2, you’d get 3 candies. Or the equivalent of a whole cowpie.
And it worked.
Suffice to say, she ate a lot of emmies between the ages of 1 and 3. But it worked.
Granted, it took about 549 days for it to actually “take” when it came to potty training our daughter. But it worked.
For some strange reason, though, I’ve never been able to look at an M&M in the same light since then. I guess it’s a good thing I never really liked chocolate in the first place.
To be continued in Volume 2…