Flushed with pride as the twins get down to business of toilet training...
DOUBLE TROUBLE FOR A FIRST-TIME DAD OF TWINS
“IT’S best to pull your pants down when you go for a wee,” I shouted, knowing I was 20 seconds too late, but hoping he’d take it on board for the next time.
Thankfully, I was talking to Thomas rather than an elderly family member, during day one of potty school.
We’d dabbled in toilet training over the last few months, but never really got our hands dirty, if that’s the appropriate expression. The plastic pots had been waiting for business in the hallway, myself ever hopeful the twins would
start using them without our involvement, on the basis even teenagers with terrible parents don’t wear nappies.
Alas, the plastic pots had been used as a toy car storage depot, a place for teddies to relax and on one occasion somewhere to store crisps for later.
Time was ticking on and the fact they could name dinosaurs implied they should be mentally equipped to use a potty at the appropriate time and place.
It was also starting to feel a little shameful changing their nappies in public because they’re proper little people.
This sense of awkwardness was reinforced by my mother, who said one of her main ambitions was for me to be out of nappies, because nothing was disposable back then.
Our excuse for letting it drag on was there were two of them.
This logic collapsed a little after meeting friends (pre-lockdown III), with twin children the same age, who’d been out of nappies for months.
However, things didn’t go entirely to plan because it turns out one of the first things to close in a pandemic are public toilets.
And on that day in a busy park with no facilities, we all wished we’d been in nappies.
Although if Covid has given us anything, it’s time indoors so this latest lockdown was the perfect chance for me to pass on one of the few skills I’d almost mastered.
Hence it was day one and the nappies were gone, they were in pants and it quickly became apparent Thomas seemed to be going on a far more regular basis than his sister.
The more we applauded and praised her while she did her business, the less business she did.
It struck me she’s a little more reserved than the boy twin and possibly might not appreciate a congratulatory crowd while she went to the toilet.
I could understand that, but this raised the very obvious question of where exactly was she going to the toilet.
Later that evening, I discovered the good news we’d done our job and Emma was already toilet trained, as long as that toilet is actually a toy tractor trailer underneath the kitchen table.