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The potty wars

I am, literally, knee-deep in sh*t.

Yep, the Small(er) One and I are embroiled in the potty wars.

I'm no novice. Firstborn and I had a similar tussle a couple of years ago. At the time it felt as if the transition from nappy to knickers took forever but in hindsight it was no more than a (sometimes painful) month. So far, the Small(er) One has been potty training in one way or another since October last year - which admittedly has included more than a few false starts and some lengthy sabbaticals - and it seems the end is still nowhere in sight.

The nursery has been brilliant. The enthusiasm! The cheering when the Small(er) One is cajoled into sitting on the potty for more than thirty seconds! The wild celebrations when she manages (generally due to luck and timing) to hit the mark! But sadly, after a week of success Firstborn suddenly decided the potty was the cause of all evil in her world and started to implement avoidance tactics. Inquiries as to the state of her bladder are now being met with a determined, "NO!", followed five minutes later by a far-away look and the inevitable trickle - which she then paddles in with a satisfied smirk.

The nursery girls are practically saints but even they are starting to look a little weary as they pass me a bag full of sodden knickers (and worse) at the end of each day. The final straw came when the Small(er) One started a squatting habit in the corner of the nursery, carefully hiding the evidence with a teddy.

Tell me, truly, how damaging will it be for her psyche if she's still wearing nappies at the age of eighteen?


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