Peeing as a Team Sport

Let me make something very clear. I have absolutely no desire to potty train my kids. Ever. Why, you ask? Well, it is challenging enough taking twin toddlers out each day without having to worry about managing them in the Ladies room. Picture this: We are enjoying ourselves at, say, the Science Center, when Lucas suddenly needs to go to the bathroom. I will first have to convince (force) Ethan to stop what he is doing and come to the bathroom and stand in a stall with me while his brother goes potty. If we even get that far, I will have to help Lucas go while trying to keep Ethan from unrolling all the toilet paper, touching disgusting things on the floor, or slamming the door of the stall and making his brother cry. This is the good scenario. The bad one is that they both have to go at the same time and I have to somehow convince one to wait while the other goes (see previous scenario), or I have to try to man two stalls at the same time. I don't have enough of an imagination to figure out what that is going to entail. This does not sound fun, and I figure that if I homeschool, they can stay in diapers until college.

Despite my strong desire to avoid potty training altogether, I decided that I would take what seemed like an innocent, non-committal first step. I invited them to hang out with me while I peed. This was apparently an honor they had been waiting for all their lives. When I said, "Would you like to go pee-pee with Mommy?", the boys exploded into what I can only assume was a sort of tribal rain dance, which was admittedly somewhat appropriate. Anyway, they dropped everything they were doing and ran to the bathroom screaming "Pee-pee!!", laughing and clapping their hands all the way. They went nuts when I opened the bathroom door. I had unleashed two Tasmanian Devils who managed to touch everything, unravel the toilet paper and pull down all the towels before I could even sit down. But that was when everything changed. A hush fell over the wild animals as they watched Mommy sit on the potty. Somehow they knew something amazing was about to happen. And so it did. When they heard the tinkle, they screamed with joy, "Pee Pee!! Pee Pee!!" and cheered for my grand accomplishment. I showed them how to flush, and we said "Bye Bye" to the pee pee. We washed hands and then closed the door to the bathroom, home to what is now a sacred ritual.

This led to several unfortunate consequences. Now it is rare that I get to go to the bathroom without my cheering squad. We are better behaved in the bathroom, but the excitement of the experience has not diminished even the slightest bit. One positive consequence, I suppose, is that I've developed higher self-esteem now that I receive standing ovations for performing the most basic of functions. I must be pretty great.

The most troubling consequence is that this has led Ethan to take a new step frighteningly close to being potty-training ready. He will now come and tell me sometimes when he is about to potty, and then he will stand there and do it in his diaper right in front of me. He will also sometimes tell me when he is going to pee in his diaper. He then expresses his interest in visiting what we now call the "Pee Pee Room". Normally this would be an exciting developmental step, but it is deeply distressing to me.

I can try to turn back the clock and pretend I have never heard of this "Pee Pee Room", looking at my children blankly as they beg to once again bask in its glory. Or I can just let nature take its course and figure that this is not the first, nor will it be the last, of our parenting challenges. As always, I'll choose the latter, but I'm not going to help nature along any more quickly than it needs to go.