Recently I arrived home to hear cries of “quick come here” coming from the bathroom. Still with my coat on, I bounded up the stairs to find POD pointing at her potty and proudly declaring “I ablute Mummy, I ablute”.
Our toddler had christened her potty. It was no longer a hat, a frisbee or a boat. Or an ark for her bath animals. Much praise followed, not to mention hugging, high fives and star giving. Anyone would think we’d won the lottery.
Since then POD has devised her own potty training regime:
1. Line potty with tissue
2. Sit on potty
3. Say “I on potty”
4. Laugh
5. Pretend potty is a car [or stomp feet in shower]
6. Place tissue in toilet
7. Unravel more toilet tissue
8. Line potty
9. Announce “I go wee wee”
10. Wee in potty
So there we have it, the potty has been reincarnated as a nest. Last night POD said “thank you your Majesty” when I flushed her gubbins down the toilet. This was closely followed with *another* attempt to turn me into a frog.
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