When Nick was two, he was all about the cars. We'd put him on the toilet facing backward, and tell him he was riding a motorcycle. It worked pretty well, considering that Daddy has a bike, but he'd flush the toilet every chance he could.
Small price to pay, if you ask me.
What matters is that the kid did it. We'd race him to the bathroom and he'd surprisingly win every time. Then he'd hop on his hog, do is business ("Its a chopper, baby.") and be on his way.
He was fully potty trained before he was three.
Will was an early potty bandwagon jumper, mostly because he sees his big brother doing it. (In fact, one of the early problems we ran into was convincing him he had to sit down to do pee.)
But recently he's needed a little more prompting.
He wasn't telling us when he had to go, or he'd say, "Pee pee, Mama," then dawdle his way to the bathroom, slow enough to ensure his diaper was wet when we got there. It was infuriating.
One day I realized the Hubster was having a better success rate than I was. I took that to mean he should take Will as often as possible.
It wasn't long before he was happy to share his secret with me.
"Tell Mama that you're a big boy!" he boasted one afternoon, ushering a jubilant Will from the direction of the bathroom.
"I POOP IN THE HOOP!"
Of course you did, dear.
Mama's so proud!
