Three days into Potty Training.

I’ve not left the house for almost 72 hours.

A lot of blood, sweat and tears has been spilled.

Our little girl is sick to death of the little green toilet we keep asking her to sit on.

But, whisper it quietly, I think we might be getting somewhere.

It’s been forced upon her a little bit.

A brief scour of the internet reveals how girls are quicker than boys, they usually start wanting to use the potty between 2 and 2 & 1/2 years old and it just comes really naturally.

Even anecdotal tales of “she was ready and just took it to it” can be unhelpful.

Now, our only previous attempt was a little bit of exposure over summer where we encouraged Sophie to sit on the potty or to run around outside without her nappy to understand the feeling.

However, with the impending arrival and then emergence of Harry, we knew it wasn’t worth pushing it.

But, with her birthday in March, switching nursery next week and the fact I was off work for a few days, we thought why not give it a go.

Cue extended period indoors and lots and lots of “Would you like a wee-wee?” We haven’t dared go outside with her because that would be too difficult to manage. She’s been wearing pyjamas and loose-fitting clothes for the past three days.

(I’m just pleased there’s been wall-to-wall football on the TV to stop me going insane).

They say “You’re never more than 20 feet away from a rat in Britain”. Well Sophie has never been more than 3 feet away from a potty. You can never be too prepared, right.

And yet, credit where it’s due. Our little girl, even though she hasn’t said very often that she wants to use the potty, is showing remarkable bladder control. The number of accidents in three days can be counted on one hand – most of those came on the first morning – and she has been excellent at going on demand when asked to “have a try.”

The timeless motivation of a chocolate button per wee is helping. Never thought I’d end up exchanging Cadburys as wages for using the toilet but there you go. Probably cheaper than Piccadilly train station.

She’s really bought into the idea of being a “big girl” and getting rid of her nappies. In fact, a new unexpected battle is getting her not to show off her pants to the world.

We’ve had some disagreements about sitting on the potty. I can see her point – it’s pretty boring. There’s only so many books you want to sit and read when you’re two years old without wanting to run around and wreak havoc. Guess we’re lucky she’s quite bookish.

I’m going back to work tomorrow so my wife is on her own with project Potty Training. Or at least she would be if hadn’t recruited her mum as a second pair of hands. I don’t blame her. Sophie’s not trained yet.

Three days in though and we’re well on the way.

(And for those of you expecting this post be full of toilet humour, I’m flush with jokes but chose not to use them…)