After that, it was time to start phase two: public places. Or as some like to call it- tour of public restrooms. Our first outing was his two-year checkup followed by a trip to the grocery store where I found myself sprinting behind a cart, yelling at other patrons as I slid toward the pharmacy section where they keep the mops, buckets and toilets. “Sorry!” I screamed with an ice-breaking smile as I nearly ran down an elderly woman holding a can of soup, “we’re potty-training!”
Once in the public restroom, the real show begins. Being a mom of boys, there are some aspects of potty-training that I just can’t seem to get a handle on. I’m lucky Big Bro learned the year iPhone came out with their first water-proof model. I had to rinse off that bad boy in a bathroom at the zoo after a detrimental misfire.
The crux of the issue is public restrooms are not built for tiny bodies. This being my second time around, I was patting myself on the back for thinking ahead and buying a foldable potty seat that fits in my backpack, making it easy to sit him on top of an adult-sized porcelain throne. I have to remove shoes and pants just to adjust him properly, which you can imagine has to be done with a great sense of urgency. I learned all of this during our second outing, where I found myself in a 2-square-foot stall in Barnes and Noble with a stroller and my toddler, trying to prop him on the stroller to stand and then sitting him down when that didn’t work, watching a stream of liquid shoot right over the toilet and onto our belongings.
A little trial and error, some under-the-breath curse words and a whole lot of wet wipes, and we’ve finally got it down to a science.
Baby Bro is just as excited as I am to be done with diapers.
