Stand Up, Sit Down, Keep Moving

After my rant of yesterday let us move on and focus on more pressing matters, like writing down all the things that my children will be wildly embarrassed by in later years.  A much more worthwhile use of my blogging time, I think you’ll agree.

Those of you who are regular readers will know that over the last few months Oscar has potty trained himself while I have looked on helplessly, prey to his toilet related whims.  I confess that I had it easier than most people and after a few weeks of the classic anal retentive behaviour he is now going to the toilet with aplomb, panache and dare I say it, verve.

He has mostly abandoned the potty in favour of the toilet and is now thinking about the fact that while he sits down to wee, his father stands up.  This puzzles him greatly, and we have many philosophical discussions on the subject, particularly as I am a slatternly mother and when they are in the garden I sometimes allow him (Oscar, not Jason, although I am not stopping him should he so desire) to piddle on the grass, rather than trek sand and water etc into the house.  He loves this.  He is also an expert at piddling down guttering, behind parked cars and once behind a tree in the school playground because it was urgent and I didn’t have time to find someone who knows the right codes to crack to get us into the infant toilets.  He loves to pee standing up.

Last week I took him to the toilet in our house for a wee.  He was sitting there dangling his deliciously plump legs and getting on with the job of weeing into the bowl rather than in the gap between the seat and the porcelain when he said to me; ‘I’ve got a sit down willy.’  To which I replied. ‘Yes’.

He then looked very thoughtful and announced;’Daddy has a stand up willy.’

I choked.

I recovered.

I said: ‘Kind of. But not really.’

He looked at me fiercely as he clambered down to wash his hands and said: ‘Yes he has. Daddy has a stand up willy.  When can I have a stand up willy?’

I assured him his time would come, and changed the subject.

On Saturday afternoon we were round at my mum’s house decorating cakes and trashing the place as usual.  We had cleaned everything up and were sitting on the verandah while the kids played in the garden.  Oscar went inside.  A couple of minutes later I followed him.  He had dragged the potty into the kitchen and was straddling it like the Colossus of Rhodes.  He was piddling away and looked towards me with great pride saying: ‘Now I’ve got a stand up willy.’

I watched as the lake of wee spread far and wide across the kitchen thanks to his aim and enthusiasm. 

His time really had come.

My time for mopping the kitchen floor came shortly afterwards.