Let’s be real. Potty training is awful.
I don’t care what the parenting books say. There is no gentle method that makes this easy. There is no one-week hack that magically works. It’s just you, a small child with no regard for social norms, and an ungodly amount of pee.
I’ve done this three times. Three. You’d think I’d be an expert by now. I’m not. It never gets easier.
Jack? Easy. Like freakishly easy. Decided one day he was done with diapers and just…was.
Lily? Nope. She held onto those nappies like a security blanket and made me beg.
Max? Oh, Max. I actually thought he might just go to college in a pull-up.
Are They Ready? (Who Even Knows)
Experts will tell you to watch for signs. Dry diapers, showing interest, telling you when they’ve gone.
Max showed none of these.
What he did do? One day, completely unprompted, he took off his own diaper, threw it in the bin, and peed in the sink.
So, yeah. They’ll let you know in their own way.
The Supplies You Need (And a Few You Don’t Know You Need Yet)
- A potty chair – They’ll refuse the first one. Or the second. Just accept this.
- Training pants – Useless, really, but make you feel like you’re in control.
- Bribes – Stickers, chocolate, the promise of a pony. Use whatever works.
- A travel potty – You think you don’t need this. YOU NEED THIS.
- A therapist.
Also, burn your carpets now and save yourself the pain.
The First Attempt (Absolute Carnage)
Day one. You’re full of hope.
You’ve got the potty ready. Your toddler is excited. They sit, they grin, they pee. Victory!
Day two? Total anarchy.
Suddenly, the potty is lava. They refuse. They scream. They run away mid-pee like a wild animal.
You will beg. You will lose your dignity.
Nothing humbles you faster than pleading with a tiny dictator to please, for the love of god, just sit down and TRY.
Accidents? Oh, You Mean Your Whole Life Now?
Here’s the thing. They will pee everywhere except the potty.
- On the floor.
- In their underwear.
- On their own socks.
- On you.
One time, Max peed into an empty cereal bowl while maintaining full eye contact with me.
Public Bathroom Nightmares
Oh, you thought training at home was bad? Wait until you take them into a public toilet.
- The absolute terror of automatic flushes.
- The full-body meltdown when they refuse to sit on the seat.
- The sudden decision that they CAN’T go unless you leave the stall.
And of course, the worst:
“Mummy, why is that man sitting down to wee?”
Pack your bags. You have to move countries now.
Night Training (aka, Just Accept Defeat)
Some kids get it right away. Others? Oh, they will wet the bed forever.
Jack was dry in a month.
Lily? A few months.
Max? We’re still waiting.
You’ll do all the right things—limit drinks before bed, make them go before sleep. Doesn’t matter. Their tiny bladders will betray you.
Just buy a waterproof mattress cover and accept your fate.
The End (Wait… Is It?)
One day, out of nowhere, it’s done.
They just start going to the toilet like normal people.
No fanfare. No parade. Just… one day you realise you haven’t cleaned up an accident in weeks.
And then you’ll stand in your kitchen, staring into the distance, thinking:
What do I do with all this free time now?
Oh. Right. They still need you for everything else.
Good luck. See you on the other side.