He called my bluff and marched out of his room, waving the evidence around on his fingertips.

“You should have done it in the toilet like a big boy,” I yelled back, staying on the couch, watching the telly. He has to be uncomfortable it’s the only way he’ll learn. He can stay in his mess, I thought one time. A few minutes later he’d be asking me to clean him up. He started to yell from his bedroom, “Stay in the lounge room!” It was a sure sign he was up to no good (and that he’ll never be a great poker player). The first time I found him huddled beneath a table I thought he was playing hide and seek it was more a game of hide the poo. Instead, he’d make himself scarce if he needed to go. Needless to say, the poor boy lost his passion for heading to the bathroom. Somehow in the commotion that followed – it’s never really been explained how it happened – his undies were flushed down the toilet. They didn’t realise the kid had graduated to undies and there was a mad panic when he did what came naturally. At around two, there was an incident at his grandparents’ house. I don’t know exactly when it fell to pieces and I don’t want to point fingers.

We were well on track for what – to me – is the only development goal that matters. By 18 months my son would tell me when he needed to do a poo. My siblings, with eight kids between them, thought I was a lunatic. Well before he was one, if his face turned a certain shade of beetroot, I’d have him over the toilet in a heartbeat. I was confident he’d have it under control by 18 months. Then there were nappy changes when my son had made such a diabolical mess, I wondered if he’d snuck out during the night for a dozen schooners and a kebab.īut those frustrations counted for nothing compared to how mad I was driven when it came to toilet training our toddler. There was the time I invented a new technique for wiping my kid down post-poo that involved holding him over my shoulder like a bazooka.

One of the surprises of becoming a parent is how quickly you get used to changing nappies. Having dramas getting your toddler into undies? You’re not alone. Home » How I found myself hostage to a toddler and his turds How I found myself hostage to a toddler and his turds By Chris Ryan

Hostage by Chris Ryan