Well, it has finally happened. I knew it would only be a matter of time. Bubba and I were out shopping the other day and the toilet was closed. Everyone has been saying to me, since the day Bubba began his toilet training, “It’s so much better when they don’t wear nappies any more.” Well, I have news for you – no it isn’t. Now instead of changing his wet nappy at a time convenient to me, I’m running all over the place the moment he says “toilet” and now, I’m in a shop with a jigging toddler and the toilet is closed.
Grammy Impractical looks at me and says, “Just take him outside to wee on the grass.” This is what I have been dreading. The grass wee. I ask Bubba if he is sure he needs to go and yes, he really does. Great. Just great. I take Bubba outside into the car park and we search for a suitable garden area. Thankfully there is a large garden nearby and I tell Bubba we are going to do special wees today.
We arrive at the garden and now, I’m stumped. I’m not a boy – I don’t know how boys wee. I pull down his little pants and undies and assess the situation. How do I grab it? How do I point it? I’m in a public carpark – is grabbing and pointing really the sort of thing I should be attempting right now? Bubba jigs up and down again and repeats that he really needs to wee. He has no idea what’s going on either – to date he’s only ever weed sitting down, on a toilet.
Desperate for inspiration, I squat down beside him and lift the little man into my arms. (This is not as simple as it sounds, he’s a healthy 15kg now) I drape his feet over my knee and lower him into a sitting position whilst suspended in midair. We have achieved the toilet pose! Bubba is laughing; he has never weed in the air before. There is, however, a minor flaw. He is now facing me. Um. Do boys naturally wee downwards? Or am I about to get very wet?
“Don’t wee on mummy,” I tell him. He giggles.
“Wee mummy,” he says. Crap, crap, crap.
“Don’t wee on mummy – go,” I say. Should I close my eyes for luck? That’s probably not a good idea.
He wees. By some miracle, he does not wee on me. Once the wee is completed, he says “finished” and is so excited that he jigs up and down on the spot. When he is sitting on the toilet, this is not a problem. When I am holding him up in the air whilst in an awkward squatting position in the middle of a garden in the middle of a capark, it is a problem. I lose balance and topple us both sideways. Thankfully, we do not land in the wee, just in the chipbark. Bubba thinks it is hilarious. I am not amused.
I stand him up, dust him off and pull his pants up. I dust myself off and together we return to the shop. Silly, silly shop with the broken toilet. Grammy says, “How did it go?”
“I suppose it was successful,” I answer.
“Wee grass!” Bubba exclaims. His face is wreathed in post-wee bliss and I just know I have started something.
I think Daddy might have to do some pointing training.