I’ve heard tale of a mythical creature also known as The Child Who Potty Trains Herself. Up until a couple of months ago, I was sure such a creature was only found in legends and folk stories.
Now it appears I have one living with me.
After the disaster also known as Trying to Potty Train Brooke, I was in no hurry to tackle potty training Caroline. She was afraid to even sit on the potty, so I helplessly shrugged my shoulders, threw my hands in the air, and gave up without even trying.
Then a friend loaned us a kid potty.
Then Caroline sat on the potty.
Then Caroline went on the potty.
Then Caroline demanded she wear panties.
At all times.
Despite my best efforts to keep the kid in diapers, she wouldn’t relent. So I put her in panties and gave her zero support. And things have been going pretty well. For reasons known only to Caroline, she usually only has accidents when we are at our house and she goes into the bathroom alone. If someone goes in with her, she’s fine; if she’s alone, well, we may have a puddle to deal with. I don’t get it.
In any case, it’s been glorious to have such a relatively easy potty training experience. I can only hope the upcoming ordeal of Potty Training a Boy is similarly uneventful.
I think I’ll start crossing my fingers now.