My goal was to have only one child in diapers. And in a way, I guess, it kind of happened. Archer’s soooo out of diapers it isn’t even funny. Pull-ups? Um… no. In fact, they very much remain a staple in Archer’s daily wardrobe and I’m beginning to fear that they might always be, because, here’s the thing. My son is deathly afraid of pooping on the potty. Hysterical, crazy upset by the mere mention of it. Tantrum “I hate your guts, you bitch!” upset.
No!!!! I won’t! I won’t! I won’t!!!
To say that I’m feeling discouraged would be a gross understatement. Ugh.
Several months ago I blogged about how FUN! potty training was. Mainly because it took Archer all of three days to master the art of the pee-on-potty squat. And only a few weeks to master the art of pee-in-public(ing.) I knew pooping came later so I wasn’t too bothered by the fact that I had to put a pull-up on him to poop in during his “poop hour” in the afternoons. I figured it wouldn’t take long for Archer to embrace his bodily functions in a mature and adult fashion so I did as I have always done: I waited.
Five months later I’m still waiting. And in that time I had purchased all the “pooping in the potty is awesome!” books I could find. (He thought they were funny but never felt compelled to poop in the potty because of them.) I bought him all of his favorite character underwear. Lightning McQueen, Thomas the Train… I even made up songs about my own poop and how much fun it was to flush it down the toilet. (Just wait. You’ll totally do it, too.)
The bribes have gone from “If you poop on the potty you get a granola bar!” to “poop on the potty and you’ll get a yummy cupcake from Crumbs!” and finally “Dude! Poop even the tiniest bit in the toilet and I’ll make you a birthday cake. With candles. And ice-cream and you can eat it ALL YOURSELF.”
This particular bribe seemed to excite him. It still does. In fact, ask Archer what happens if he goes poopy on the potty and he claps his hands, jumps up and down and says “I get birthday cake with candles! Yummy, yummy! Oh, boy, birthday cake with candles, yeah!” Although, for some reason… his excitement never seems to affect his need to perform the simple task to get said bribe.
Which leaves me as I am, today: hopelessly confused. Frustrated that I can’t send Archer to school in underwear. Frustrated that I still have to change pull-ups in public restrooms while Archer screams, embarrassed, and kicks me in the face with poop on his heels.
I’m at a loss. I’m desperate. I need your help.
Please, for the love of all that isn’t shitty, help me find a way to get my kid to poop on the pot. I’ll give you a million dollars.