The time has come to potty train my two (almost three) year old. Trust me, it wasn't my idea. I've been through this twice before and I had no desire to re-enter the world of carrying a potty from room to room, asking every two seconds if anyone had to go, bribing with chocolate and worst, cleaning the car (insert gag reflex here). I thought I had more time. I figured we'd do this in the summer. But my little one had other ideas and this past Friday morning, she decided that the time had come. And so out came our old trusty Elmo potty - and his twin brother, the other Elmo potty - the car one.
I hadn't used a sticker chart with my boys when they were potty trained. They were never into that whole non-edible incentive thing. They just wanted that promised Hershey Miniature and nothing else would do it. But my daughter, she's a smartie. Not that the boys aren't, they are too - but I am learning that there is just a huge difference between boys and girls. Huge.
Where was I? Oh yeah, the sticker chart. I had had a thought to make a "potty train" - a little paper potty traveling on paper train tracks, all taped to the wall. Use the potty and the potty moved forward on the train tracks. Get it? Good. But she didn't like it, this little one with a mind of her own. The boys thought it was a great idea when I floated it yesterday, but she wanted a cupcake. A cupcake train? No. Just a cupcake.
So we made a paper cupcake out of pretty scrapbook paper. I drew a large cupcake on a piece of paper, cut out the frosting part and the bottom muffin part and traced each one onto scrapbook paper. I cut each section out and glued them together, and there ya go, a cupcake. We hung it on the wall in the spot of her choosing. And for stickers, small round ones that stand in for sprinkles. Sprinkles? If you have been following along you will know that my little one is very afraid of sprinkles. Will not even look at a pastry item with sprinkles. But she is the one who called the stickers sprinkles. Maybe this is her way of working through her phobia. Much cheaper than non-insurance covered therapy. See, she is a smartie pants. Or panties, as the case may be.