JieJie is a great big sophisticated girl, newly turned 5. She was brave at her dental checkup, enduring X-rays, knowing cooperation would speed her return to the playhouse (with slide) in the waiting room. On the way out, she saw a sign on a door and said, "Mommy, what's a lavatory?" -- which brings us to today's topic.
At last, and after making deals with the poopy doctor, reading affirmations to herself, and holding me tight, JieJie used the potty chair -- once a day, every day for a week. She is petrified of putting her little bottom on any of the cushy seats we bought to make the toilet seat fit her. Instead, she sits sideways on the seat of the potty, clinging to me, crying a little, holding herself rigidly, a fraction of an inch above the seat, until she pees.
She knows how to go and when to go, and thanks to the baby steps we have taken with the help of the poopy doctor, now she CAN go.
The first time, we were supposed to toss some cheerios into the big toilet and let her try to sink them. At the last second, she leapt off the toilet and we swung over to the potty chair.
"Now I can't sink the cheerios!'' she cried. "But you can float them,'' I said, having a moment of poopy doc wisdom. And she did. "Nothing bad or scary will happen to me if I pee or poop in the toilet," she says, holding the card the therapist made her.
Something bad or scary DID happen a long time ago, at least that is what the PD has deduced. We probably will never know what it was, and dwelling on the possibilities is, well, not helpful and too chilling.
What matters is, my #1 big girl is peeing in the potty and even dancing on top of the toilet. If she could overcome this fear, there are no limits to what she can do.
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