Dot Dot

"OOh look boys....whats out there on the lawn????... a series of little brown packages on the lawn/stones/deck!!! ...ohh do you think santa's been past for a quick reccie and the reindeer left us a clue???.."

Ah, sorry, no. Actually it is the gift that keeps on giving this christmas - the 18month old who's decided to toilet train himself.

He's always had a sly fascination of the smallest room in the house and now he' s a big dot-dot (transl. toilet) man.
First thing in the morning...we hear him yell ' DOT DOT' and up we leap to take him for his 'wee' sit. And then everytime he feels like a 'Loll-Loll' (lolly) throughout the day he manages to squeeze one out.

As a cloth warrior mum every nappy I don't have to scrub is a joy (bless his cotton socks) and we are of course very proud of him being so well, darned advanced. But....it's the other presents we find everywhere that are rather trying. Like the 'reindeer' droppings on the lawn. And quite a few other places I won't describe incase our landlord reads this! Subsequently we are spending a lot of time reading stories in the little room, hoping to catch 'it', and train 'it' through masses of praise, silly songs and confectionery. I think at his age the spirit is willing, but his little brain doesn't quite translate the warning signs in time.

(Apologies for the theme tonight, but it is a truth universally acknowledged among those like myself who have worked in care of the elderly, that if the bowels aren't working, then nothing else happens. And on the other end of the scale, just ask any mothers groups what their number 1 topic of conversation is. In the dawn, as well as the twilight of life, we will spend a considerable amount of time discussing 'it'.)

On that note, I'd better go check the premises for any gifts from our delightfully advanced son. I guess when it comes to early indicators of genius there is no guarantee of musical protege.