Potty training part two

Harry’s potty training is going very well, and we’re now getting out and about again.

Post-nappy life isn’t without its challenges though. For instance before leaving the house now, I have to spend five or ten minutes trying to persuade, then bribe (chocolate buttons seems to do the trick most effectively), Harry to have a wee. To Harry this is one big game of course, which doesn’t make things any easier.

Then there’s the need for speed when Harry announces he wants his potty. I took him for a fairly long walk the other day and he managed to use his potty three times during the trek. On the first occasion, I only just managed to get Harry and his potty out of the pushchair in time. Crouching down on the side of a busy A5 was a first for me, but it didn’t seem to bother Harry at all. In fact, the only tricky bit was getting Harry back into his pushchair afterwards.

Being outdoors is one thing, though, and I was far more nervous about what would happen when I took Harry to an indoor play area.

So when we went last week, I admit I did consider putting Harry in a pull-up nappy before venturing on to the play equipment. My main worry was that Harry would decide he wanted the toilet when we were stuck at the top of the equipment.

However, my conscience got the better of me, and we braved it without the nappy – and it all went surprisingly well. It did cost me a flapjack to get him to go to the toilet at one point, but I was able – smugly, of course – to report to Melissa that there had been no accidents.

So Harry has taken to potty training pretty well. So well, in fact, that when I put him to bed (in a nappy) the other night, 15 minutes later he was shouting ‘Daddy, wee wee, quick’ at the top of his voice. I couldn’t ignore him obviously, but I’m sure this was just another part of Harry’s game.

Charge!

Harry, like all youngsters, can get a bit carried away when he’s enjoying himself.

The other day, for instance, I arrived home to find him sat at the kitchen table painting. Two minutes later, I was sat next to him, joining in the fun. Everything was going well until I decided to lean over and paint on Harry’s piece of paper. He looked at me, help up his hand and said: “Stop daddy, Harry’s paper.”

I should, with hindsight, have left it at that. I didn’t of course, and leaned over to paint on his paper again. Five minutes later my face was covered in paint as Harry decided to put a stop to my interference once and for all. As Melissa said afterwards, it was my fault for antagonising him.

I also managed to cause trouble when we visited Chirk Castle. We had a great time running around the grounds, and Harry was particularly taken with the soldiers guarding the entrance to the castle with their pikestaffs.

Interest in history, I thought, should be encouraged, so I bought Harry a sword and helmet. I then taught him to shout “charge” and chase me. Unfortunately, Harry decided that charging at strangers with his sword raised would be much more entertaining than chasing dad.

There was one uncomfortable moment when Harry decided to attack two elderly ladies. Fortunately, I managed to grab him – much to his disgust – before any damage was done.

In the end, I convinced Harry that it was better to charge while sitting on my shoulders, which may not have been historically accurate, but was certainly safer for the other visitors. In future, though, I think I’ll concentrate on games that don’t involve swords.

First name terms

Harry is a handful. From the minute he wakes up, to the moment he closes his eyes at night, he’s a bundle of energy that just doesn’t stop.

Our strategy to cope with all this energy is simple: tire him out. At the moment, this means spending as much time as possible in the garden taking part in Harry’s favourite activity – digging.

The other day, I went to get him when he woke up in the morning and his first words to me were: “Daddy, digging, outside. Now.”

He certainly likes being outdoors, although the lovely weather we’ve been enjoying lately means Melissa and I often have to chase him around the garden with the suntan lotion, which can get a bit messy. Believe me, hanging on to a determined two-year-old who’s been smothered in sun cream is a lot more difficult than it sounds.

As well as his boundless energy, Harry’s also got a wicked sense of humour. On Sunday, we were messing about in the front room and I was tickling him when he suddenly shouted: “Stop it Martin.” Now I had heard him call me Martin a couple of days earlier, but on that occasion he was just copying his mum; this time, though, it was completely unprompted.

Melissa burst out laughing, while I was left momentarily speechless. Of course, as soon as he realised he’d said something funny, Harry kept calling me Martin over and over again. His comic timing was spot on.

And it’s not just me – he’s taken to calling Melissa’s dad Terry and my dad Colin, and I’m convinced it’s just to get a laugh. Goodness knows what’s next, but we’re going to have to be very careful what we say in future.

Potty training

Soon after Harry was born, a friend told me that life as a parent was a constant challenge. Just when you think you’re on top of things, she said, everything changes.

I’ve often thought of that statement since and it came to mind immediately we started potty training. Now I was dreading potty training, mainly because I hadn’t got a clue what to do.

Fortunately, Melissa was far more organised and had come up with a plan to kick things off. Essentially, this plan meant not leaving our house for several days to get Harry into the swing of using the potty without any distractions.

As it turned out, the first couple of days were as challenging as expected; eleven pairs of pants the first day, and about eight the second. I’ll admit to being slightly relieved at having to go to work. By the time I arrived home, Melissa – understandably – looked completely drained.

After that, however, things started to improve markedly and the number of accidents has now fallen to just one or two a day.

After four days of training, Melissa had to work and it was my turn to look after Harry – which did cause me some anxious moments. I must have asked him if he needed his potty at least once every five minutes and, by the end of the day, poor old Harry was looking at me in frustration saying: “No, not now daddy.”

Anyway, the warm weather meant we were at least able to play outside and Harry surprised me by taking to using his potty in the open air straight away. It means we’ve been able to spend hours on end in the garden, which is now looking very tidy this year as a result.

Two weeks on, and we’re able to get out and about – with the potty going everywhere with us, of course. There is the odd accident now and again, but it’s not half as bad as I thought it would be. Long car journeys are still a worry, but I’m sure we’ll get there somehow.

Holidays in the sun

Just over 12 months ago, we went abroad for a holiday with Harry. It was good but Melissa in particular found the whole thing a bit stressful. In fact, she found it so stressful, she declared afterwards that we wouldn’t be setting foot on an aeroplane for at least four years.

Thankfully, after another bitterly cold winter, her resolve weakened and a couple of weeks ago we jetted off for some sunshine in Tenerife.

Of course, Harry’s changed a great deal in the last year – we didn’t need to worry about his food or drink this time around, which immediately made things a great deal easier. The fact that Harry is now much more content playing with his toys also made things much more straightforward on the four-and-a-half hour flight.

We spent most of the week either on the beach or playing about in the sea or swimming pool, which suited me down to the ground; my sandcastle building skills were quite impressive by the end of the week.

Melissa’s mum and dad also came with us – and there’s no doubt that having grandparents on hand helped Melissa and myself relax. As much as we both love Harry, it’s also nice to have an hour’s rest now and again, if only to get your breath back. It still amazes how much energy a two year old has.

It wasn’t all plain sailing though – literally in Harry’s case as I managed to tip him off an inflatable and into the sea, quite by accident. I was then public enemy number one for a good half hour and boy did I feel guilty when he looked at me afterwards with an expression that said: “I trusted you, how could you let me fall off?”

Still, Harry doesn’t hold grudges and he was soon back to digging sandcastles on the beach. Now I can’t wait until our next holiday – in Yorkshire. I just hope the weather’s as good so I can brush up on those sandcastle building skills.

Bad news for ducks

I wrote recently about Harry picking up bad habits. Well, he’s got another and it’s not good news – particularly for ducks.

Let me explain. Harry has always enjoyed going to feed the ducks, even if he is a bit reluctant to hand over the bread most of the time (he prefers to eat it himself).

However, when we visited the Mere in Ellesmere a couple of weeks ago, his attitude had changed. Instead of throwing bread towards the swans, Harry charged towards them shouting ‘Shoo!’ at the top of his voice. As if that wasn’t enough, he also started swinging his leg as if he was about to aim a kick at them.

I grabbed him, of course, and gave him a ticking off, although I must admit, it was difficult to keep a straight face. I then told him to say sorry to the ducks, which he did – reluctantly.

Within minutes, however, he was chasing the swans again, shouting ‘shoo!’

By this time, we were drawing disapproving glances from other people, and one family – feeding the ducks without incident – looked particularly unimpressed.

We swiftly moved on to the playground – thankfully a duck free zone – before we were escorted from the mere side.

I’ve since been doing my best Poirot impersonation, trying to find out who he’s copying but so far my investigation has proved fruitless – and Harry’s not for telling me either.

Whoever’s responsible, though, it’s clear that feeding the ducks with Harry will never be a very relaxing experience.

Flattery?

IF imitation really is the sincerest form of flattery, then we must be doing something right with Harry.

He mimics just about everything we do, from facial expressions to phrases, leaving us in fits of laughter most of the time.

Melissa, for instance, has a habit of shrugging her shoulders when she says ‘don’t know’. Harry has now developed the same habit, although in his case, it’s basically a stock answer when he’s challenged about why something is broken.

Harry’s also got a great ‘hurt’ look that he must have copied from somewhere (I blame Melissa), which he employs very effectively if we say no to him. It’s often accompanied by a ‘please…’ which, as he’s well aware, makes you feel like a terrible parent.

My personal favourite, however, is Harry mimicking me having a shave. Harry stands on the toilet, toothbrush in hand, dipping it in the water and scraping it along his face every time I pick up the razor. It’s hilarious, if a bit messy.

Of course, we’re also conscious that Harry will also pick up any of our bad habits, and Melissa and I have to be on our toes constantly to make sure we don’t say anything out of turn in his earshot.

My brother, Barry, who loves nothing more than making mischief, managed to cause trouble when he visited my mum and dad recently. Barry – despite protests from my mum warning that Harry would copy – decided it would be a good idea to sit on the coffee table.

Harry, who hadn’t shown any interest in the table previously, was soon sat on it – proud as punch – with his feet up, grinning wickedly at my poor mum. And I can tell you with absolute certainty Harry knew exactly what he was doing.