week 125- house nights, Usain Bolt and weeing in front of strangers...

It's all gone a bit back to basics at our flat. And I'm not talking the Leeds-based house night.

I thought the tricky bit about potty training was getting out of nappies in the first place.

Having yourself, your child and the corridor up to the loo covered in wee for a week. 

But it turns out that's the easy bit. 

It's the stuff that comes after that that gets a bit feral. 

Nancy took a week to potty train and I was feeling pretty smug about that. 

It has got a bit grim at times, granted, and there was the odd time when I couldn't work out if the pissy, old swim suity smell was me or the drains. 

But let's be honest, everyone has the occasional urinal smelling day, right? 

There was initially the relief that, come April, I would only be changing one set of nappies everyday. 

But now I am more of the mindset that you should strongly weigh up the benefits of potty training against ever seeing the light of day again. 

In fact I'd go so far as to say, don't bother. Keep things simple and live in nappies until you're  in your mid 70's, then make the seamless transition into Tena Ladies. 

Actually, it's not so much the day time that's the problem. 

Although we have had several Usain Bolt moments when Nancy's announced she needs the loo 'RIGHT NOW MUMMY' and we're miles from anywhere to go and surrounded by hoards of people who might not look favourably on squatting over the nearest drain.


But there's also the self awareness from Nancy that she's in charge of her body in some way. 

She likes to chat about going for a wee with anyone who will give her the opportunity. 

Including the estate agent who had come round to value the flat and had humoured Nancy by letting her give her the tour. 

I hope she doesn't choose to use any of it in the house spec, as Nancy explained the sofa was 'daddy's bed' and the bathroom was where 'you can do a wee wee and a poo poo if you like.' 

I can only imagine that Nancy then gave her a look to suggest that that was what she should be doing right then, as Nancy watched on from her viewing post of the step under the sink.

As I heard the estate agent reply, 'I don't need to go right now, but thank you.'

No. The big problem is bedtime. 

Nancy has now seen a total opener into an extended evening of faux 'I need a wees.' 

And you can't call her bluff in case she really does. 

But worse still is when she does go, and then brings the potty in to proudly present a turd when you're half way through dinner.

Anyone else and I'd probably call the police, but we put our knife and fork down, clap and praise her. Clean everything/ everyone up. And then hope she'll go to sleep.

I'm not sure how long this 'phase' lasts for. 

Or, for that matter, what the next one is. 

But I can only hope it doesn't get any more biological. 

I've already started announcing that I'm 'off for a wee' in front of colleagues without even thinking what I'm saying. 

I guess the next logical step for me is to start asking  randomers if I can watch them go for a wee like Nancy does. 

I look forward to seeing how that goes down.