Poo

The Diary of a Not So Ordinary Boy

There are fewer parenting escapades I have entered into with my eyes more firmly shut than the Adventure of Potty Training.  There I was, determinedly washing out the terry nappies (better for the environment), bemoaning the sate of my hands, and I thought, why not?  How hard can it be?  Yes, it’ll take longer, but, heck, I’m used to that.  Better get started early.  I blame them entirely.  They lulled me into a false sense of security.

You see, you have to keep checking them.  Yes, I know we have to do this constantly, regardless of type, and many is the time I have regretted an exploratory sniff, but my investigations had persuaded me that my firstborn son, despite the perils of low muscle tone, was not what one might call a dribbler, so I consulted the catalogues and rapidly discovered that there is an exciting array of plastic goodies…

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