Book Review: My Big Boy Potty
My Big Boy Potty by Joanna Cole: 3.5 stars
We have potty mouths around here. It was bound to happen. We talk all things potty. Potty chairs. Potty seats. Potty hooks. Sitting on the potty. Peeing on the potty. Pooping on the potty. Flushing the potty. Flushing pee pee in the potty. Flushing poop in the potty. Please keep your hands on your knees while sitting on the potty. No, your book doesn’t go in the potty. And the ever popular — Will he ever actually use the potty?
Boo has a pretty extensive potty mouth. He talks a good game. He’s so well-versed in potty that when I take him with me to the bathroom at say, Target, he quite audibly asks, “I flush your pee pee in the potty?” Uh, yeah, kid. Whatever makes you sing.
We’ve read potty book after potty book. And he loves them. By far, this one is his favorite — so much so that he flipped out when we had to return it to the library. (He gets that we return them so other kids can read them, but that was not acceptable in this case.) Each day after the infamous return, he’d ask for the Michael book. (Michael is the boy in the book.) Where’d Michael go? I want Michael back. Clearly I need to socialize this kid more. He’s befriending book characters better than real-life ones.
On to the book. It’s actually quite cute. It covers all the bases. The best , most brilliant part is how it starts: Michael is a boy just your age. See what I mean about covering bases? Genius.
So why not four stars?
For starters, it covers too many bases, most notably including an explanation of what happens after you flush: The pee and poop go into pipes under the house. Are you kidding me? Why does my kid, who may I remind you, does not pee and poop in the toilet, need to know this? He doesn’t know what a pipe is for crissakes. Weird. Then — and here is where it gets odd — daddy teaches Michael to pee standing up on like day two of using the potty. Huh? Did I miss the memo? Is there a conspiracy to get my kid to destroy my bathroom? What the hell?
The parents also have a poor sense of fashion. Boo thinks the dad is the mom.
And one more thing. Michael is the best behaved toddler I have ever seen. It’s absurd really. Somehow his hands never wander; he never takes the potty insert out to play with it; and he apparently has mad skillz in the undressing and dressing department. Meanwhile, he looks no older than a year and a half. Wha—?
When it comes down to it, though, Boo loves this book. The next time we went to the library, we looked for it again and couldn’t find it. Enlisting the help of the librarian, we discovered it’d been checked out. No joke — we put in a hold request. For a two-year-old. She laughed and said he was the youngest child she’d ever received a special request from. Why does this not surprise me? We’ve had to teach him how to pull down his pants, but he’s making requests from the librarian. That’s my boy.