I have become one of those mothers. You know the ones; the ones who want to tell the world how “clever” their child is because they did a wee on the potty.
I know. I hate myself too.
The thing is, no one told me that having children would mean there would be a moment in my life when I would find myself dancing a celebratory conga around a potty. I was completely unprepared for the sheer joy a potty training triumph would bring. There is nothing like the all-encompassing pride at hearing the tinkling notes of your child using the potty as it was intended (not as a hat, pillow, cereal bowl or weapon).
I was also shamefully ignorant of the loud whoops I would emit as my toddler stood up to display the toils of her labour, clapping herself and demanding a present for her hard work. More still, I’ve been taken aback at this driving urge to run out into the street waving the potty – and all its contents – at passersby, desperate they acknowledge my child’s first “potty wee”.
I almost – almost – found myself taking a picture of the glorious scene and pasting it all over Facebook and Twitter with the caption, “Look what she’s done! *proud face*”. Thankfully, the potty hysteria has left a small corner of my mind untouched.
I did, however, accost my unsuspecting husband with the full potty on his return from the shops. “Look! LOOK! Isn’t she CLEVER?!” I cried with enthusiasm, thrusting the item into his hands and standing back to survey his look of wonder, his face lit up by the golden liquid.
At this point I should probably lie to try and salvage some of my husband’s credibility as a “cool bloke”, but I’m not that good a wife. “WOW!” my (usually sedate, low-key) man exclaimed, before joining me and the toddler with a celebratory dance around the potty.
Turns out potty hysteria can get us all.