Toilet training in public

As soon as I finish writing this week's post we all have to take a trip into town. I used to love getting into the city, and for the most part I still do. I'm a true blue Dubliner and despite my occasional protests that I'd rather be in London or Paris or Chicago or Barcelona, the sights and sounds and smells of my native city do it for me every time. I'm sure my kids think, or will think when they're a bit older, that I'm a crashing bore – I'm forever pointing out things and telling them what it used to be, or what I did there in the eighties or nineties.

 

At the moment though, a trip to town is fraught with danger. You know in the movies where you see Secret Service agents, their heads on swivels ready to dive for their charge and evacuate in a split second? That's me. Because B is toilet training.

 

You get pretty good early on, I think, at looking for the signs that something's about to happen. You'll be in the kids section of Chapters and all of a sudden he'll start looking super serious, or the legs will be crossed and he's doing the little dance. We've actually reached a point where he'll even ask for the potty if it's not immediately visible (or if he's too busy with a toy to pull down his own pants) and once in a while he'll even give us adequate warning to get there.

 

But still – as soon as you get the sign, it's time to go. You drop whatever it is you were planning to buy, grab the kid and run like a linebacker for the nearest exit, or if there's one in the store,  the toilet itself. God help anyone who steps in your way – I don't know a parent who'd stop, let alone apologise for trampling someone who stands between a toddler repeating "potty potty potty potty" over and over, and the nearest convenience. If you don't get there now, then it's a very sheepish apology for the mess and standing there while they get the yellow, 'Caution Wet Floor' triangle-of-shame.

 

Thankfully, this isn't my first rodeo. We went through all this with AJ and I learned where the 'good' toilets are. I can tell you, from almost any shop in town, where the nearest public one is and the quickest route there. I can tell you which ones aren't strictly public, but are either nice enough that, when they see you with a small kid with his legs tightly crossed will let you in rather than risk a puddle. I know which ones are cleaned regularly and for which ones you'll need extra wipes and sanitiser. I think I can even sense when one is going to be busy enough that you need a plan 'B'.

 

It is the world's lamest superpower but at least for the moment, I wouldn't swap it for any other.

 

Except flying, of course. That looks awesome.