A Wee Tiny Post:: A Real Piss-take

I am not proud to tell you that twice in two weeks I have inadvertently rubbed Tiny's urine on my face.

Tiny has a wee fascination with the toilet. Of course I madly deter it, and implore that the toilet is not to be toyed with. But as with most things, Tiny ignores me.

When Tiny was particularly peeved (pun not intended) for some reason or another, she went and pee'd all over the bathroom floor. I walked in a bit later and was greeted with the pungent whiff of an old man's urinal. Oh boy. I cracked open the disinfectant and a hot mop and went to work. Moments later, I could STILL smell that unmistakeable stench. Like super strong. And I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. So I did what any normal person would do, jumped into the shower. Maybe the urine stench had been transferred to my skin?!

I got out of the shower, grabbed a towel, dried my face and OH MY GOODNESS - WEE! That Tiny had wee'd on the towel, and then it was hung up, unbeknownst I went and wiped it all over me. I quickly got back into the shower, piping hotwater and scrubbed my face like it was nobody's business.

Filth.

Today we were getting ready to go to Puss In Boots, and Tiny was again messing about in the bathroom. Last night she was mincing toilet paper in the toilet, up to her elbows in toilet water (filth). Nevertheless, she was in there, I went to check on her, she had washed her hands, her hair was a little wet, but off we went to the movies.

During Puss In Boots Tiny felt a bit scared, climbed onto my lap and I was savouring her warm little body nestled into me. I was mkaing the most of her wanting to be close to me, because that Tiny, she is so unpredictable. I was rubbing my face into her usually sweet smelling hair, and whoa. That instantly recogniseable whiff of wee. Oh man. I sat there thinking about the fact that her hair was wet, that there was water all over the bathroom floor, and foolishly I had thought she had washed her hair in the basin. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

That girl had styled her hair with the acrid and germy toilet water. Can you imagine sitting in a darkened cinema thinking about what has now been transferred onto your face, and in tune with the uber stank of wee in your baby's hair?

Friends. It's not pretty.
It's filth.

I've once again implored that the toilet is not a play-thing, a wash-thing, or any other thing other than for wees and poos. No.

We've sanitised Tiny with a L'Occitane Lavender Bath and blitzed her hair.

I am just hoping that wee contains some kind of anti-ageing properties despite its pungent whiff. I can not wait to get into a steaming hot shower and wash that wee right outta my pores.

A Bog Post

Let's cast our minds back to how I actually came up with the name for my blog: PottyMouthMama. I was in the thick of toilet training. All I could think of was potties. Bribes. Star charts. And cleaning the potty. It was all consuming for me as a young mama.

PottyMouthMama really has nothing to do with the fact that I *accidentally* swear, and therefore Tiny could be found in the back of our car cussing with the best of them. She's a small wharfie in the making. And even when I asked her to stop saying: "Oh F-bomb", she continued. Ouch.

Anyway, back to the reason there is a really special toilet seat posted on my blog. And let me tell you, this place I like to keep kind of immaculate, and you're wondering why there's a toilet on my blog? Why PottyMouthMama, why? And why the crass title? Well for good reason.

This toilet seat may just be the key to getting a reluctant toilet trainer on the toot. It's not your usual white loo seat. It has fishes! It has star fishes! It has sand! Shells! Blue faux water!

Or it could really freak them out. Which could be good if you have a child that likes to sit on the toilet for long periods of time. Let them know a shark may bite their little bot-bot if they straggle.

Actually, don't do that. It won't do anything for their toileting.