splish splash taking a toilet bath

Most parents have their fair share of kid stories and so do I, but let me remind you, my children aren't normal - they weren't born to a normal mother, they weren't raised in a normal environment and so I didn't expect anything other than slightly bizzare behavior from them.

Potty training can be challenging, even with the most cooperative child and the most patient parent. My middle child wasn't cooperative and I'm not patient so potty training was destined to be a miserable chore.

My eldest is easy going and it took awhile but potty training was accomplished. Unfortunately for me, Katie's younger sister Sarah had been watching to proceedings with care. There is only 16 months between the two and I had read not to push the potty training so Katie was about 26 months and Sarah was nearing her first birthday. There is a lesson here - never underestimate the drive of a second child trying to catch-up.

One day, a few months later, when Sarah was about 14 months old she toddled out of her bedroom, pulled off her diaper and threw it into the living room. "I do it myself!" and then she went and got a new diaper and attempted to put it on herself.

Well, if that's how she's going to be, I figured she was ready for potty training. For two days I put her on her little potty chair and she'd scream. I'd beg. I'd plead - just a little in the potty. She just gritted her teeth and refused. So, I'd let her play and the next thing I knew she was throwing her diaper at me. "I do it myself!" and she'd scamper off to get a new diaper. This went on for a couple of days, but honestly, I was getting really annoyed. I'd be watching TV when a soggy diaper would land on my lap. I'd be playing on the computer and whack - I'd get nailed in the back. I found diapers everywhere. It was a game. I'd beg and she'd throw diapers. And her mantra - "I do it myself" every time.

Fine, if she wants to do it herself, she can, I thought as I picked up yet another diaper. This time I hadn't seen it and stepped on it, barefooted. I didn't have the strength to fight any more and everything was starting to smell like old diapers.

I wasn't going to push the issue, but maybe I should've supervised her a bit more closely. I was home that afternoon, surfing the internet when things got very quiet. Every parent knows that quiet...the too quiet, quiet; the "uh oh" quiet. I listened intently to see if I could discern where the girls were. I heard nothing, but Barney on the TV. The hairs on the back of my neck started to prickle, my ears fine tuned for the tiniest sound, I sniffed the air - danger was near. Something was very very wrong...and then...I heard it - "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" followed by blood-curdling screams coming from the bathroom; I raced to the bathroom - all sorts of thoughts flying through my head at lightening speed - Sarah had got soap in her eyes, she poked my mascara in her eye, she had the comb tangled in her hair, what could it be? I should've been watching her better. I'm a terrible mother. She's maimed for life.

And then I saw her, my little blonde baby was completely naked on the big potty, folded in half, with her butt hanging in the toilet - stuck. I couldn't help it, but I laughed. Her little legs were pumping the air as she pushed and wiggled to free herself, but she was really, truly stuck in the toilet. And she was mad!

When she saw me laughing she glared at me, her blue eyes blazing, her little voice as full as indignity as an 14 month old could must and she said - "I did it myself!"

It took a little doing but I wiggled her free and that was the end of potty training - because - she did it herself!