Toddlers have their own way of expressing themselves before they can really talk, and my son is no different.
However, he’s been entertaining when it comes to potty talk.
It used to be that when Nolan had to – for lack of a better term – go number two, he’d run to a corner of the kitchen.
We’d know right away it was time for a diaper change.
More recently, he’s developed a new warning technique.
After a weekend with my parents, my brother taught Nolan how to make a gesture for “stinky feet.” It consisted of Nolan waving a hand by his face and hissing ‘S’ for stinky.
And it was after that, when I asked him once if I needed to change his bum, he repeated the gesture – only this time he was referring to his stinky diaper. I’m surprised he even made the connection.
That communication method has continued for the past few months. But since he’s turned 20 months old, people are in a hurry to potty train him.
He got a cute little potty for Christmas, which plays a song if it’s used for its intended purpose.
The first time I sat him on it, he did pee and I thought we were ready to turn a corner.
Turns out, it was just a fluke. He’s sat on it a few more times, but doesn’t really have any interest in putting on a show.
At least for me.
As I dropped him off at day-care the other day, he paused while playing, and I asked him if he was stinky. A quick sniff told me no, but the day-care provider asked him if he wanted to try the potty.
“Paw,” said Nolan, confirming his interest.
She hiked him up onto the real toilet with a potty seat. And so he sat there with a calm face, and clasped his hands like he does when he’s nervous. The poor little guy didn’t know what to do, but he wasn’t upset by the moment.
I applauded his attempt and listened to hear anything, but I couldn’t hang around for the conclusion.
I had to leave him there and head off to work.
In the car, I almost started welling up with tears at the image of my son sitting there with his legs dangling, waiting for a special moment in time.
I don’t know if I’m ready to have him take that next step of independence.
It’s not that I enjoy changing diapers. It’s just one more confirmation that he’s not my wee baby anymore, and he needs me less and less as he grows.