The Joy of the job

He's doing great so far. Usually his first melt down would come when we would routinely stop off at the bathroom as soon as they arrive at school. We like to toilet the preschoolers first thing before entering the classroom, even those who still wear a diaper. If they aren't potty trained we have them walk through the bathroom anyway just for good measure, then let them wash their hands as independently as possible.

Our little guy, whose behavior has gotten out of control lately, is actually holding it together. Typically, when we have a parent visit they have a tendency to act up even more but for some reason, it had an opposite effect on him. We invited his mom to observe with hopes she can offer some insight on how we can help him.

At the bathroom we divided and conquered each taking a couple of kids. One teacher took some into the boys bathroom and the rest went in the girls with me and another para. As I was assisting a child with his pants I could see out of the corner of my eye in the other stall, the plaid shirt of our little guy.

He was sitting on the toilet with the door locked. We don't like when the kids lock the door because it keeps us out and them free to flush as many times as they like, play in the water and spin the roll leaving a heap of toilet paper on floor.

I decided to leave the lock door on the sidelines and not pick that battle. Instead I focused on the fact he was independently using the bathroom. Good job, I encouraged him, you're doing great. I like the way you are going potty like a big boy.

Then I turned my attention to the other child, helping him with his pants. As we finished up,  I took a quick peek through the crack of the stall door of our little fella with the plaid shirt. Wow, you went poop! Nice job, do you need help wiping?

Never once did he say anything which is unusual for him, but I was so pleased he was cooperating it didn't matter. Not only did he go potty, but he pooped, without any issues.

Finally I heard the stall door unlatch. I was so ready to embrace him and tell him how proud I was of him but it wasn't him.

 It was a girl. A darling little girl wearing a very similar plaid shirt. She sheepishly looked at my mortified expression as she walked passed me. I couldn't apologize fast enough but I'm sure she didn't care, all she wanted was out.

Poor thing, I'd want out too if some crazy teacher kept talking to me about going to the bathroom and asking if I needed help wiping.

Who were you talking to? Asked the other para. By this point I started giggling and told her I thought it was our little problem child. She told me he was in the other bathroom with the other teacher.

I figured that out the minute the little girl unlocked the stall door, but clearly it's a mistake anyone would have made right? After all, their shirts were almost identical.