Potty training, the drill-sergeant way

I've been flirting with potty-training Isaac since October, when I arbitrarily decided that 2-1/2 was a good age to start. Really, all signs point to readiness. He makes a huge and obvious show when he's cooking up an Isaac loaf, and sometimes he even wants to see the results of his labor. He is fascinated with Daddy peeing. He wakes up dry from naps and even, sometimes, from the big sleep.

Right from the start, we procured the necessary potty accoutrements. We bought a beautiful and squishy be-trucked potty topper to prevent his precious bottom from falling in. We bought Spongebob undies; Meemaw bought Thomas undies. We bought Toy Story pull-ups. We already had the free-standing little Isaac potty, just in case the big-people potty was too intense for him. We had numerous books, including one that flushes and has a cat that expresses displeasure at poop-related stinkiness. We were all set.

Off and on since then, I've tried several different things. First, I put him in the pull-ups. He and I both soon found out that they are nothing more than overglorified diapers and that they could withstand his peeing onslaught just as well as his Huggies. Next we tried the Thomas underwear, which I thought would be a big hit. Who would want to pee on Thomas? But the big-boy underwear simply made peeing through it more of a curiosity. "Look, Mommy, what's this?" he asked me, splashing in his pee on the floor. "You clean it up!"

At the suggestion of Jane, I also tried the naked-time approach, where the young man remains naked for two or three days solid and comes out the other end with a more enlightened view of his bodily functions. When I tried this with Isaac about two months ago, the novelty of peeing and pooping on the floor was far more commanding of his attention than any of my suggestions, accompanied by bribery, that he should sit on his potty instead.

But, however slightly different, in each case Isaac confronted us with the same problem. He flatly refused, to the point of hysterics, to sit on the potty when it was time to go. All of The Books say that I should wait until he wants to use the potty, that I should not make it a battle or I will scar him for his pee-peeing life. So, as he refused, I have acquiesed and given more and more of Dada's hard-earned money to those rich old farts at Huggies.

We are in the midst of trying the naked-boy approach again. Since November, two important things have changed. First. When Isaac is naked, he no longer wants to pee on the floor. He understands that the pee is coming and does an elaborate, leg contorting peepee dance, all the while screaming at me "MOMMY! PUT A DIAPER ON ME NOW! I NEED A DIAPER!" as though the world should surely end if he met his pee face-to-face.

Second. I have devised my own potty training system. Isaac still wants no part of the potty. So what do I do? Oh, it's really quite ingenious. When he starts doing his peepee dance, I pick him up and tell him we're going to the potty. He screams about how the potty is the devil. He thrashes, squirms, goes boneless, you name it. When we get to the potty, the freaking-out escalates. I go to sit him on the potty and he arches his back such that sitting becomes impossible.

So. Here comes my trick. Are you ready? It's so anti-establishment. While he is protesting with his entire being, I wrestle his body into potty-sitting position. That's right, I force his precious tush onto the potty. Once he is sitting, I immediately push a small cup with chocolate chips in the bottom into his hands. "Oh, chocolate chips!" says Short-Attention Span Monkey, who instantly relaxes with his snack. And with the relaxing, the peepee comes a-flowing.

Scarred for peepee life? Hardly. When he sees himself peeing in the potty, he gets so excited. We have a little dance party when he's done, and, if Dada is at work, I call Dada and Isaac himself proudly announces that he's done such a good job at going to the potty.

Since Wednesday, he has peed once a day every day except Thursday, when he didn't, and today, when he did twice. My current strategy is to screw this whole all-or-nothing potty regime that exists in The Books. We are starting with just a peepee in the morning, and, when we get that down, we'll add a peepee before bed. It can't be too long before he catches on himself. I'm willing to take my time with it, though I hope, if it's going to take awhile, that he gets tired of playing with his package while he's streaking through the house. I really didn't ask for that kind of show here.