So we finally started potty training Rocco last weekend. He's 2 1/2 and seems ready for it so we jumped in. When we potty trained Max, I remember it being a very smooth process. The biggest hang-up was buying him prizes for pooping on the potty. Back then, I would have called it "pooing" but since having lived in a testerone-filled house for the last 8 years, I have adjusted to calling it what it is. Yuck.
To prepare, we bought lots of underwear, set aside 2 days of our lives to focus on this big event, and stocked the house with stickers and Skittles. What we didn't prepare for was Rocco being himself.
We started on Sunday and I haven't sounded so excited about underwear since I worked at Victoria's Secret ("We have the teal hipster in your size! What about the matching thong and bra?!") Rocco settled on some new Thomas the Train undies and away we went, with promises of sugar and stickers for successful potty-attempts. The reward for going potty in this house is 3 Skittles and a sticker.
The first moment I realized that Rocco was gaining the upper hand was when I found him stealing the candy. He was at the kitchen table while I was occupied doing something very wholesome and parentlike, I'm sure, like refilling my coffee cup and popping some Advil. He SAID he just wanted to SEE the Skittles. He must have meant see them in his mouth because when I looked over, he looked like a chipmunk with a mouth full of rainbow-colored sugar nuts. He was giggling as Skittles started to fall out of his mouth, which he caught quickly and shoved back into his mouth, before he ran off. The Skittles were put up and I learned my lesson to NOT TRUST ROCCO AROUND CANDY.
My next downfall was the stickers. I keep the stickers within reach because Rocco has never really cared about stickers before. That is until they were being used to count good behavior. We have a sheet of paper on the door for a potty chart. When Max trained, he dutifully placed a sticker on the chart for each time he went potty. This chart became a source of pride and joy for Max - and one we have saved for his senior graduation party. For Rocco, this chart has become a way of showing that he really is the boss in the house. I found him rapidly adding unearned stickers to his chart - when he saw me, he looked up, started laughing and took off with the sheet of stickers. I explained that stickers were only for when he went potty. This explanation was met with a smirk and an unspoken understanding that Rocco would add stickers whenever he damn well pleased.
The final straw was when Rocco learned why little boys have openings in the front of their underwear. Funny what you can poke through there. "Look Mom!" I heard and when I turned to look, I was visually accosted by Rocco's little buddy. "Oh Rock, you need to put your penis away. He stays in your underwear." But it was a lost cause because Rocky had learned that I had a new button to push. I looked to Peter for manly advice - he is a man after all and has learned to overcome the urge to walk around with his penis hanging out. I figured he was an expert with this. This is what I got:
Peter: "Rocco, put your penis away."
Rocco: "Hey Dad! Look at me!"
Peter: "Just ignore him. He'll stop."
Rocco: "Mom! Mom! Look at me! Look at me!"
Peter: "Rocco, if you don't put that away, the cats will bite it."
At this point I was completely appalled. I turned on Peter and scolded him for 1) being gross and 2) totally making up a story to fix this behavior. Now, the cats do bite Rocco because he pulls their tails and tries to sit on them. But they bite him on the arm - not anywhere more sensitive! Let's reason with Rocco instead because I'm not going to make up some blatent lie just to have him put his little guy away (internally I was panicking I'd get a call from his child care teachers about my new little flasher). At this point Petey-the-Cat (a huge maine coon cat) came walking through the kitchen. Rocco gasped, shouted "NO PETEY!" and grabbed his crotch and ran off.
Once I picked myself off the floor from laughing, I realized one thing. While I never want to make up completely unbelievable lies for my children, at least WE learned one thing - Rocco is listening afterall.
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