Well, Catch-man is 2.5 years old now, and potty training has been sorta like an episode of Fantasy Island (that I distinctly remember watching as a child). You know the episode. The one where Tattoo greets the seemingly happy guests, but Boss reminds him that things are not always as they appear. It's kinda going well...kinda.
As modern (non-spanking-the-crap-outta-our-kid) parents, my wife and I chose the reward method of potty training. If you go poo-poo in the potty, Mommy won't blow a gasket, while getting up in your grill every five minutes asking you if you "wanna go poo-poo in the potty?" And Daddy won't seek you out every time you are silent for 2 minutes and drag you, kicking and screaming, to the potty, while simultaneously ripping your pants and pull-ups from your body and plunking your little bottom down on the cold toilet seat. We felt the rewards for having neither of the above scenarios repeated would be self-evident and Catch-man would refrain from hiding in the corner and whimpering defiantly, "don't look at me," or the ever-so-telling, "I'm not done yet." But alas and alack, it wasn't working.
Mind you, in an attempt to avoid the aforementioned scenarios, Catchr had been working diligently on the "tee-tee" portion of the curriculum, but the solid-waste disposal portion was failing to "take". We found that we had to adjust our execution of the reward method. I for one was beginning to fear that my son would develop some sort of anxiety regarding this evacuation procedure, while my wife was worried that we would be changing his diapers until we were once again in diapers. Either way, something had to be done.
My wife decided that the rewards had to be more tangible.
I had heard of people giving their children stickers for using the potty effectively, but Catch-man was having none of it. He was a little man, for crying out loud...he wanted tattoos. And tattoos he got. Press on tattoos last, they were
his badges of honor, to be worn proudly at daycare. He could show them off and proclaim his mastery of the excretory process. Every time he used the potty for the big deed (solid, mind you) he could have a tattoo (or any of a small assortment of items my wife and I placed in a small "treat box" for just this purpose). Now Catchr is just about potty-trained; only wearing pull-ups for nap time and bed time.
Unfortunately, I made the mistake of placing a few dimes and nickles in the treat box. Apparently, Catchr is a little too quick on the uptake and has begun dumping for dollars. And now, while I may be saving money on diapers, potty training has put me about $60 bucks in the hole (or toilet)...4 dimes at a time.
You see Tattoo, something more sinister, indeed.