Zachary has been daytime potty trained for two years. Two years. Two fucking years. But it is hard to nighttime train a child who likes to fall asleep sucking on a straw cup filled with water. Hell, we were lifting him to the toilet just to keep him from wetting through his Pull-Up.
A few months ago, I managed to convince him that he should only have the cup once he gets into bed, cutting out the four or five ounces he was drinking during book time. This cut down on the urine output considerably, giving me hope that we might be down to only two children in diapers before the child goes to middle school.
He is so grown up lately, insisting he can do everything by himself but also terrified by what that might mean. I think those nighttime Pull-Ups became a habit that it never occurred to him to break. And his parents? Well, nighttime training means a lot more laundry, not to mention the hassle of re-making the top berth of a bunk bed on a regular basis. We figured it would happen eventually.
And then, one night in December, he started to put his pjs on sans Pull-Up. “Do you want to wear underwear, instead?” I asked. He stopped and processed that concept.
“Um, yes,” he decided. And that was it. Now he is nighttime trained, although we still have to lift him and there is an accident once or twice a week.
If only convincing his brother to poop on the potty were this easy. Maybe if we sit around and wait for Ben to be ready, he’ll be potty trained before the Junior Prom.