I think (and hope) I’ve managed to get through my Potty Ambassador and Potty Project posts these past few months without getting too sappy, but I think I’m going to fail MISERABLY today. You see, this is my final post for this endeavor, and I’ll have to hand the crown (er, jewel-encrusted potty seat?) off to the next Ambassador soon enough.
As I mentioned in my last post, despite T having been solidly toilet trained for over a month, I was extremely nervous about putting him in his underwear on our recent plane trip. What if he had an accident? What if he forgot everything? As I've mentioned in the past, T was initially quite stubborn with regard to potty training (not unlike the adorable Brandon, who, I believe, would be fast friends with my kid). As the morning of our flight drew near, I became increasingly anxious that putting him in underwear would be nerve-wracking at best, and The World’s Biggest Mistake at worst, if for no one else, than the person who would next inhabit what was sure to be a very soggy Seat 9F. Still, Jen’s advice in that post--which boiled down to the importance of consistency--compelled me to give it a shot. I mean, if the worst-case scenario played out, I wouldn’t be around to incur the wrath of the wet-butted person who sat in the seat after T, right? Right? I took a leap of faith.
Well, as things turned out, I need not have worried. I had taken him to the bathroom twice in the airport while we waited to board our flight, and once while we were in the air. (And speaking of which, if the Toddlerlympics ever become a reality, I’d like to enter myself in the Feats of Strength Division, under the category of Lifting Large Child Aloft, Mid-Pee, In Order For Him To Avoid Any Sort of Contact With Airline Toilet of Questionable Sanitary Conditions. These biceps don’t grow on trees, you know.)
The fact that this-- the first real test of his potty-training skills-- took place on a plane was sort of apropos, as I truly felt like (GAH, CLICHÉ ALERT) we were flying blind, so to speak. Other than a hasty change of clothes, there was no true fall-back plan for us here in the event he didn’t make it to the potty in time. All I had to back me up here was simply confidence in my kid, and his ability to remember what he needed to do. And you know what? Despite the excitement of T’s first plane flight (and as such, his new surroundings), he never forgot what we’d been diligently working on together for the past few months.
Like a sportscaster not wanting to ruin a perfect game, it was not until after we landed (and made a beeline for the restrooms in O’Hare) that I gathered T in my arms, grinning, and told him how proud I was of him for making it through his first plane trip without an accident. He smiled back and said (in an almost condescending tone, honestly) “I’m a big boy, Mommy. I go on the toilet.” I told him he was right, and together, we walked back to our family waiting for us at the baggage claim. We enjoyed our time in town over the next few days, and when the time came to fly back, I spent a lot less time worrying about a potential potty accident, and a lot more time reveling in the milestone my son had achieved.
Many, MANY thanks to everyone at Pull-Ups and the Potty Project for all the support, encouragement and resources throughout my Potty Ambassador experience. I could not have made the experience I had potty training T as (relatively!) painless as it was without their guidance.