Learning to Use the Potty Chair

Allie has been “potty training” for over a year now. We bought her a little potty chair in February of last year, and she peed a few drops in it once that month, and has only peed in it one other time since then. That second time was a fluke, however—I conned her into sitting on it while watching Cinderella, and sure enough in the 90 minutes of the movie she accidentally “let it flow.” She got up, I checked the pot, and cheered at the cup or two sitting in the bowl. She looked over my shoulder stunned to see something in there—she had no idea it had even happened. So that went nowhere. We made a potty chart, complete with star stickers for every time she uses the potty. I gave up on that one after a few months, and started just giving her stickers for at least just sitting on it. It didn’t take long for her to start to think the stickers were a gimpy reward, so not even those would entice her in the least bit to sit on the dang thing.

The next major attempt came when out of desperation I declared whatever day it was in August, I think, “Happy Potty Day.” I blew up balloons, we made a potty reward chart full of her favorite treats, I got down some crazy sunglasses and a cute hat she could wear while sitting on the potty, we made up a cheer (“Where do you go peeps and poops? In the…” “Toiwet!”), and I let her watch whatever movies she wanted while sitting on the potty chair. How many times did she empty herself in the pot? Well, let me put it this way. Each time she would watch an hour-long video, she’d finish it, I’d check to see if she left any “presents,” just for her to get up, walk two feet from the toilet, and pee all over the floor. Lovely.
After seeking advice from articles and friends and family, I liked the idea of potty training with a doll to give her the idea of what she’s supposed to do. You know, play out the scenarios. I took her pink bunny, gave it a pair of Tinkerbell underwear, and would sneak a few raisins along with some lemon juice into the potty chair when Allie wasn’t around. Then in front of her I would declare that bunny said she has to go bathroom. I’d whisk the bunny to the chair, have her sit on it for a few minutes, pull her off, and congratulate it for relieving herself so well. I must admit Allie was a bit shocked to see her stuffed animal, which she totally knows is not a living creature, leave “poops and peeps” in the potty. I could see her mentally scratching her head, trying to figure it all out. She knew I was messing with her head, and didn’t buy into it. She would encourage me to put bunny on the potty chair, but refused to sit on it herself.

Then a couple weeks ago in talking with Kev he mentioned something that got me thinking. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but it was along the lines of helping her “ease into it.” Hmmm. Suddenly it came to me. What if we did just that? What if we had her pick out a pair of big girls underwear from her drawer to wear for just a couple hours each day, increasing the amount of time to wear it little by little, week by week? That just might do the trick. So, that past couple weeks, we’ve been doing just that. Don’t get me wrong, she’s definitely not potty trained yet. After all, just an hour ago, she suddenly started peeing all over her feet, her quilt, the floor, her two Disney Princess backpacks, and her singing frog “Lilly”. I heard it from the other side of her room, yelled for her to get on the potty, and she peed all the way over, and had nothing left for the pot. But at least she sits on the potty again, and while she hasn’t done anything in it she is at least getting better at holding it in (or controlling it), since she really hasn’t enjoyed it the last few times she has peed her pants and had to clean it up.

I came to the conclusion, though, that the reason why it is so hard to potty train that kid is because, while some kids are empowered by independence like I was, other kids, like Allie, are empowered by getting other people to do things for them. She is a princess through-and-through. I’m starting to understand why my grandparents have nicknamed her “The Little Paris Hilton.” While I don’t want to put that kind of a horrible, horrible label on my little girl, they both have that princess-syndrome, which is why (for all you out there who think we’re mean and “too hard on Allie” for trying to teach a three-year-old to clean her room) we’re attempting to nip this one in the bud. We refuse to raise a spoiled “heiress” that doesn’t know how to do anything for herself.

Although I sure hope Paris knows how to use the toilet.