TOILET RE-TRAINING

Dear Mummy,

I've been toilet trained and considered a 'big boy' now for almost a year because I'm able to visit the commode by myself.  I don't understand why, all of a sudden, you insist on re-training my bathroom habits and teaching me this so-called 'toilet etiquette'.

You say I should lift the toilet seat all the way up, but I discovered that by resting it on my tummy, while I go, saves time.  Also, only slightly edging my pants down so "Little Ollie" sticks his head out the top of my undies, pointing straight in the air and aimed towards my face, you call 'silly'.  I call this time management.  If I don't flush the toilet, you refer to this as being 'forgetful', whereas I justify that I'm conserving water, so I can wash my hands for ten minutes after.

When I show you I can go with my hands behind my head, while gazing up to the ceiling and gibbering about the latest bright and shiny thing that caught my attention, for some weird reason, this sends you into panic mode.  I don't believe it warrants an over dramatic response just because a little bit of wee sprays on the seat or squirts off in a long stream to pool in the corner of your ensuite. You always say we 'shouldn't cry over spilt milk'.

Last week, when we were out visiting friends, you appeared mortified when I ran over to tell the owner of the house that I had to visit the lavatory.  Normally you want me, to let you know, when the urge strikes.  I didn't think the lady would understand my special toddler language, so I thought by poking "Little Ollie" out the top of my shorts to say 'hello' and strumming it like it was an air guitar would get my point across.

I notice, you also appear to wear a similar look of chagrin on your face when I visit the latrine during our regular weekly lunch outings at the pub.  When I run through a crowd of pensioners, with my shirt already tucked under my chin and "Little Ollie" protruding from my shorts and underneath my visible belly button, my objective is not to embarrass you, but to merely express my aptitude for efficiency and demonstrate my organisational skills.

Please understand that I don't need a chaperone each time I visit the restroom as I believe I'm extremely capable of accomplishing the task at hand and do not require any further lessons in 'toilet etiquette'.   


Love Ollie xoxo



P.S.  Mummy, do you keep putting those ping pong balls in the bottom of the toilet bowl to help me with my aiming techniques, or is it solely because Linc likes to retrieve them?