Accident Without Emergency

I was going to blog yesterday about how Lighting is now toilet trained, and how it's really been pretty easy considering all the disasters I've heard little boys have.  I had no intention of starting at the end of January, seeing as every time I asked him if he wanted to sit on the potty he said no, but then every time I picked him up from the church nursery they told me that he had volunteered to go.  Toddler peer pressure?  Or still just great fun washing your hand and flushing the toilet?!

So one morning, I think the week of everyone's birthdays (because you know, nothing else was happening that week), I asked if he wanted to wear big boy pants.  He said yes, and so potty training began, and like I said, it was pretty easy.  Within three or four days he'd mastered holding it for a few hours, and by a week he'd finally done a poo.  Amazing how long kids can hold that in for: white grape juice works wonders.

Anyway, we never had any accidents when we were out and about, and pretty quickly I just insisted he go every time before we left the house - which is pretty regularly when you have kids in school.  Within a few weeks he was going himself - pulling down and up his pants, flushing the toilet (and unsticking the flush because there's a dodgy connection somewhere and would flush continuously if you let it), and washing and drying his hands.  All very easy.  He's even been dry at night for the last three weeks or so, helped I'm sure by the promise of one of those last few Valentine's Kisses in the morning.

Except every couple of weeks he seems to have a total mental block and forgets he's toilet trained.  Like yesterday: twice he peed himself, totally, and needed a full change of clothes.  Is it a boy thing?  A distraction thing?  A me not paying attention thing?  Or just an early days thing...

Anyway, I was lying in bed last night and about half 3 in the morning I was tossing and turning, and for some reason the thought that kept going round in my head was that Lightning should probably go potty (I know I know, such an Americanism, but so much easier and quicker to say).  But you know, it was 3.30am and I was only really half aware of my thoughts.  Five minutes later though I see Lighting walk in to our room.  I deliberately turn my back on him, because quite frankly if he's happy to settle himself on the floor next to our bed then everyone still ends up with a good night's sleep - putting him back means he'll be up at least two more times before dawn - and he settles himself down next to us on his pillow and cuddling his blanky. I do drag myself up and get a blanket to put over him, I'm not totally heartless.

Five minutes later though, I guess I'm still tossing and turning, I have a sudden thought that maybe he peed himself. So I lean over and feel and nope, he's totally dry.  But then I realise he's not wearing a sleepsuit. "Where's your sleepsuit?" I whisper, not that I think we'd have woken the Don.  "It wet", he says, "I put new jamas on." then he turns over and goes back to sleep.  Fair enough.  So I, without any debate, also turn over and go back to sleep - I mean if no one has to sleep in the bed tonight what benefit is there of me going next door and stripping all the wet stuff off?

And right enough, come morning, his sleepsuit and pyjama bottoms and blanky are all lying on the floor in a pile next to the bed, and during the night he'd gone to the drawer, located and put on new bottoms (but not a new top, he told me in the morning, because this one isn't wet), and found a new blanky.  Maybe I'm just the mum, but I find that quite impressive for a not yet 3-year old.

Now, if I could just teach him how to strip the bed and put everything in the washing machine...

And no, I'm not gonna put nappies or pull-ups back on him at night time.  He's dry at night - what's an extra set of pyjamas and a sheet in the grand scheme of my washing every few weeks...