Positive Reinforcement

Call me Mother of the Year.

It seems that it's been quite awhile since I've posted something without complaining about the Wonder Toddler. Make no mistake, the temper tantrums are still frequent and loud. However, I'm grateful that I can focus on the positive for a change.

Peanut has hit a couple of major breakthroughs this week. I've rediscovered the joys of stickers, and noticed that they're not just for restaurants and peacekeeping missions. Now that we have a sticker chart, Peanut will on occasion deign to sit on the toilet without a screaming fit. Today was a bit more interesting.

First thing this morning, I point out the need for the potty. Screaming ensued. For once, I kept calm, and told him that when he was ready, we would go into the bathroom. Sure enough, thirty seconds later there was a small voice requesting potty assistance. The second he got on there, there was a need for stickers. And many hugs. And much rejoicing.

I'm taking this as a victory because I think Peanut's finally getting that this isn't so much about thwarting me, but having control over himself. It's another step toward independence, and really, isn't that what everyone wants? Plus, the Diego and Thomas underwear are really cool. I'm not sure just how long this will last, but right now, it just doesn't matter. I'm off to rejoice and congratulate.

Call me Mother of the Year.

Master Peanut, Quite Contrary

Call me Mother of the Year.

Proving once and for all that my kid is too smart for my own good, Peanut has discovered the power of the contradiction. Luckily, he has yet to perfect this art.

We have introduced new and improved weaponry in the battle against diapers, and it's getting pretty entertaining for friends, relatives, and anyone else who doesn't live in this house. Peanut will inform Boomer and I that he would like to go to school, play with cohorts at school, etc. Boomer and I will gently tell Peanut that he can't go to school and enjoy it if he isn't potty trained. Amid some tears and a remarkable increase in volume, Peanut invariably declares those delights unfit for his enjoyment.

What????!!!!

Not even his beloved trains are enough of an incentive. In fact, there is nothing Peanut wants more than outsmarting, outfoxing, and infuriating his mother. Diapers are the way it's been so far, and diapers it will be until the end. Or so he thought.

Peanut had earlier discovered the joys of stickers. Now he realizes that if he ceases the temper tantrum and goes on the potty, there are stickers for his very own. We have finally caught his interest. Still unwilling to do anything in it, but at least he deigns to sit on it and look at books. It's progress.

However, I'm hoping this progress isn't slow; we have five weeks until preschool starts.

Call me Mother of the Year.

This Scene Again, Just Once More

Call me Mother of the Year.

I find that Dante's Inferno left off the tenth circle of hell: potty training a recalcitrant toddler.

There has been some small success this week. Peanut, under extreme protest, has finally found his way to the potty. There has been much cheering from all concerned parents, grandparents, aunt, and cohort mommies. Granted, said cohort mommies were congratulating me rather than Peanut, but that's okay. They've either been there, there now, or about to be there, and fully understand that this is as much my battle as his.

With all this ado (about something), one would think that Peanut would find this encouraging. In fact, the opposite is happening. My contrary toddler scorns all adulation, turns up his nose at rewards, and downright ignores blatant bribes in an effort to stay as far away from potty training as possible. I'm not amused. Neither is he.

Potty training now looks and sounds like a war zone. Peanut screams and hits as we go into the bathroom. Trains, sippy cup, books all have no calming effect. The screaming can last upwards of thirty minutes. This could be longer, but honestly, I stopped timing. I don't want to know. Even after I get my way and am congratulating Wonder Toddler, he will look me in the eye and inform me that he's "never sitting on potty ever again". I can't make this up.

However, I am taking heart that my fight is nearly over. He is finally nearing the end of the diaper run, and there is the potential that he won't have to change his own diaper before he graduates college. Then again, knowing Peanut, he will.

Call me Mother of the Year.

Thwarting Mommy

Call me Mother of the Year.

Peanut is up to no good. This time, it's so inventive that it's infuriating.

Once again, I'm fighting the potty training battle. Peanut is oblivious at best and furious at worst. He's still refusing to go anywhere near the bathroom, still tries to sneak away from diaper changes (boy, does that fail miserably) and still insists that the potty is "too big" for him.

Last week, Boomer and I decided new tactics were in order. I put Peanut in underwear and forbade him from sitting on the furniture and on the carpet. He had a few toys and was able to eat lunch on the floor, which was totally cool for him. He was told that he couldn't sit on the furniture until he went on the potty, and he needed to keep his underwear dry.

I kept checking on him, and he obeyed. The underwear stayed dry for three hours. He even told me that he needed to sit on the toilet (but didn't do anything). That's when I realized what he was up to.

The kid figured out how to pull down the underwear and relieved himself on the floor. Underwear was dry, and potty was avoided. Mission accomplished.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Part of me is excited that he knows to keep himself dry, and that's the main thrust of this battle. On the other hand, he still wants no part of toilet training.

Right now, I'm using all accomplices and showing Peanut the coolness of underwear. Maybe cool weapons will finally win the war.

Call me Mother of the Year.