Potty Training has been serious business in our house since we caught our just-three-year old trying to change her own diaper.
Being a librarian has its advantages, and I brought home a stack of books that logically explained the entire process and how much fun it was to be toilet-trained from the POV of a princess, a frog, a duck, little girls, little boys, and (disturbingly) the potty itself.
But nothing and no one could convince my kid that sitting on the potty was anything other than a complete waste of her time. We read, we sang, we had nice talks, we had bribes . . . and we had loads of wet Minnie Mouse underwear . . . and diapers.
Then last Thursday, a co-worker came in with a book she’d InterLibrary Loaned for her own daughter: How to Potty Train Your Monster by Kelly S. Dipucchio and Michael Moon (Hyperion, 2009).
Just look at that artwork!
This book gives a list of ten things to do to potty train one’s monster, with lots of tips along the way (Never leave your monster alone with a roll of toilet paper . . . ).
It doesn’t try to convince the mons—ah, children to use the potty, but it does, all the same. My daughter loves it.
The best instruction in the book is to wait until one’s monster is ready—most monsters are good to go (so to speak) when they are between 200 and 300 years old, but three-eyed, purple monsters with horns are particularly stubborn and may resist giving up diapers until they are 400-years old.
And all I had to do to get my own three-eyed, purple, spiky monster to sit on the potty was to tell her that I’d read her the “Monster Potty Book.” No arguments!
A potty book that reassures the parents and works with kids? Priceless.
True, could-not-make-this-up-fact: my toddler just came in, pointed to the screen and said, “That’s my potty book! I hafta go potty now!” She grabbed the book and disappeared into the bathroom.
This may be the best potty book ever.
Thank you for this terrific review! I wish we could put it on the back of the book!
Monsterly hugs to you and your daughter…
You’re very welcome! Thank you!
Monsterly hugs back—and toenail-chip cookies, too!