Ok, I'm getting confused now. How is it that my little boy is bright enough to work out that he can open the big door on the cupboard in his bedroom, push one of his little chairs up to it and reach up and get out his pot of crayons with no help whatsoever. It's lucky I went back into his room when I did as he was just getting bored of drawing on paper and was looking for other surfaces to unleash his creative side upon.
So, as I began to mention earlier, if he's bright enough to do that, they why can't he work out how to pull his own pants down to go to the potty? It's not as if it's particularly difficult, I bought one size up on purpose so they'd be a bit loose and easy to get up and down. He wont even properly try. I told him this morning that he'd get a sweetie if he pulled his own pants down and pulled them back. He tugged a couple of times, couldn't do it and gave up. I told him - no sweetie - and he didn't seem to care, until afterwards and he got a bit upset.
We've changed the rules, you see. He doesn't get a sweetie or any treat like it until the end of the day and he has to have been dry all day, no accidents, no weeing in the nappy (nap times don't count yet). Monday and Tuesday went well, today he has failed.
We popped out for a bit - you can't do much in the way of out and about when you're potty training, but you can't be hermits either. We went out, he had a bit of a play and we stopped in a cafe. I gave him the option of using the cafe toilet and then staying to play longer or going straight home. He wouldn't use the toilet so we came home. We were out for less than an hour, but he'd wet the nappy.
He doesn't seem to get it yet. I told him I was disappointed, but it didn't sink in. Not long after we got home, he used the potty.
It doesn't help he's not been well this week. We were making some good progress when he went down with a head cold that almost sent him right back to square one. He's getting over it now, but he still has a runny nose that nothing short of a couple of corks can abate.
Yesterday he dribbled on the sofa. The blocked nose has made him dribbly. I sighed and said that I'd need to get a tissue. Joseph beat me to it, got the tissue and then wiped up his dribble. He then marched into the kitchen and threw the tissue away. We sat there in stunned silence, although I did tell him he was a very good boy and well done just as soon as I'd got over the shock. So if he's bright enough to do that, why is potty training so hard?
"Joseph made a mess."
Oh, I hear that a lot. I tell him not to, sometimes he listens and sometimes he doesn't. This morning he didn't listen. I got him mostly dressed (pants, no trousers as I live in hope he might get the idea of taking himself to the potty) and told him to stay in his room while I got dressed. It's the same routine we have every morning and I creep downstairs quietly enough I can get a little quiet time before he twigs that Mummy isn't quite that slow at putting her clothes on.
When I'd had my little sit down, I got the vacuum cleaner out and got ready to clean the floors upstairs. I have never found vacuum cleaner that isn't evil. They all harbour hatred inside their fluff filled innards and it's all directed at me. We have a Dyson and it's tried to kill me more than once, usually by toppling over, but it's standard trick is to fall to bits while I'm trying to manoeuvre it up and down the stairs. Just why are the only handles on the bits that come off?
I've taken to using a Miele now, which is much less evil than the Dyson, but still seems to actively resent the job it's been designed to do. It's always catching on doorways and items of furniture, pulling me up short and then dramatically freeing itself and cracking me in the achillies tendon. Ouch. At least it has a cord retract, which the Dyson doesn't (seriously, it's the 21st century, and you can't put a cord retract on your machines Mr Dyson???) but even that has it's perils. When using one of my Mums vacuum cleaners some time ago, I pressed the cord retract button with my foot, only to discover that it was a bit more powerful than expected and right at the end the plug swung round and hit me on the foot, leaving me bleeding and bruised. They're evil, I tell you, all evil.
I digress. Joseph had made a mess. He always made a mess. Having vacuumed the hallway and the bathroom I moved on to his room and the noise had persuaded him to play downstairs. I tidied up, finished the cleaning and was about to move on to our bedroom when he came back in.
"Where are all the things?" he asked. He seemed genuinely confused.
Tidied up. I doubt they'll stay that way for long.