And, if I'm honest, it's mainly because it doesn't even remotely compare to the
Yes, Beth has
The down side is, it makes for rather less entertaining blog material. Essentially, I told her on Day 1 to wee in the toilet. And - well - she did.
On the plus side (from a blogging perspective, as opposed to a sanity perspective), poos were something of a different story. The afternoon I spent screaming, covered in shit, with one arm entrapping the poo encrusted toilet and one arm pulling poo smeared wipes from the u-bend... well, that's this blog at its finest. Just be thankful I'm sparing you the gory detail.
Two weeks on though, and even poos appear to be sorted. (Crosses fingers and hopes desperately is not tempting fate.)
AS OPPOSED TO MR JAMIE. Who emerged from school yesterday with the most horrific looking stain on the back of his school trousers, right between his butt cheeks.
"Um ... did you have a good day?"
"Yes. Why did you shout at me like that?"
"Um ... I was just worried."
"Worried about what? About those people with guns?"
"Not so much. I was worrying about your trousers."
"Why?" Turns to survey his trousers.
"DON'T TOUCH YOURSELF!"
"I mean, don't touch your trousers. At all. Even if they're falling down."
"But they are falling down."
"But my bottom might come out."
"It's not the worst thing that might happen right now."
"What is that..."
"DON'T TOUCH IT!"
"Oh, is it poisonous?"
"That's the least of your worries."
"What should I do Mummy?"
"Get home. Remove your trousers. OUTSIDE OF THE HOUSE. Run yourself under hot water for at least half an hour. With soap. We'll burn the trousers. And then - only then - we might all be okay."
Potty training has NOTHING on 5 year old boys.