Since my experience in potty training my O was relatively easy, I fully expected that Joseph would be a licensed driver before he abandoned his dependence on diapers- that just seems to be the way parenting works.
Needless to say, my common mistake of underestimating my little guy once again revealed itself.
He was easier to train than O.....kind of.
After one morning, he knew exactly what to do and when to do it. After two days (and one accident at the always distracting park....where the poor slide will never be the same), he had mastered not only getting himself to a potty, but the always elusive art of "holding it". I couldn't have been prouder....even bragging a bit to anyone who hadn't seen the witnessed crime at the park.
Of course, bragging is always the kiss of death.
What my eagerness to believe and my mommy euphoria kept me from foreseeing was the all important passing of the poop. That has been, shall we say, not so easy.
He doesn't have accidents. He doesn't scream and cry. He doesn't do anything.....which is exactly the problem.
My little ray of sunshine has what we might call poop anxiety.
I know, I know.... who doesn't these days?
Nevertheless, my little keeper holds it as long as he can, hand over tush and full of squirmy dancing, before he finally gives in....an ordeal that takes entirely too long and too much pleading. Not only that, he'll maintain days of resistance before he cannot hold it anymore. Points for resilience, but horrible on all other counts.
So why share these trials in output? I'm looking for advice. The problem isn't about diet (he lives on blueberries, grapes, and water) and it isn't about accidents (he doesn't want to go anywhere).
The problem is simply about letting go.
Help, please.
Needless to say, my common mistake of underestimating my little guy once again revealed itself.
He was easier to train than O.....kind of.
After one morning, he knew exactly what to do and when to do it. After two days (and one accident at the always distracting park....where the poor slide will never be the same), he had mastered not only getting himself to a potty, but the always elusive art of "holding it". I couldn't have been prouder....even bragging a bit to anyone who hadn't seen the witnessed crime at the park.
Of course, bragging is always the kiss of death.
What my eagerness to believe and my mommy euphoria kept me from foreseeing was the all important passing of the poop. That has been, shall we say, not so easy.
He doesn't have accidents. He doesn't scream and cry. He doesn't do anything.....which is exactly the problem.
My little ray of sunshine has what we might call poop anxiety.
I know, I know.... who doesn't these days?
Nevertheless, my little keeper holds it as long as he can, hand over tush and full of squirmy dancing, before he finally gives in....an ordeal that takes entirely too long and too much pleading. Not only that, he'll maintain days of resistance before he cannot hold it anymore. Points for resilience, but horrible on all other counts.
So why share these trials in output? I'm looking for advice. The problem isn't about diet (he lives on blueberries, grapes, and water) and it isn't about accidents (he doesn't want to go anywhere).
The problem is simply about letting go.
Help, please.
