George is usually pretty regular and almost always "goes" just after mummy has left for work and before I have to drop him off at nursery/nanna's/nanny's. Then he usually "goes" again just after I pick him up and before mummy arrives home.
George hasn't "been" for a couple of days and so this morning, as he stood in front of the TV watching Postman Pat, his face reddening as he clenched his bum cheeks and adopted a stance that can only be described as "I'm free" (a reference to Are You Being Served for those whose memories don't go back as far as mine), we thought it would be the ideal time to whip down his pyjama bottoms and plonk him on the duck-shaped potty.
Well, needless to say, it didn't go as planned. Rather than realising the true purpose of the potty, George got a little frustrated that it didn't have wheels... after all, as well as its squeaky beak it has handlebars just like his ride-on train.
It's too early to say yet, but hopefully when this potty training gets started proper it won't drag on too long – well, we will get there because most, sorry, all the adults I know stopped using potties years ago. Let's just hope he doesn't get his duck mixed up with his train.
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