The next day when I dropped him off, I spoke to his teacher and thanked her for potty training him. I told her how much I appreciated it and how I hadn’t even known till we went out to eat.

Single Parent Memoirs (Potty Training)

By Cornelia Amiri

When my son turned two years old, I found a neighborhood nursery I was pleased with, run by the Chang's, a kind husband and wife who gave the children Chinese candy each day when they went home.  

After my son's first week there we stopped at a hamburger place to eat. He told me he needed to use the bathroom. He had not been potty trained so I went with him into the ladies restroom. Then gasped at the astounding site. He walked right into the stall, pulled his pants and his diaper down, and urinated standing up. Like a big boy.  My baby!  I told him how proud I was and he looked at me as if I had said the strangest thing.

The next day when I dropped him off, I spoke to his teacher and thanked her for potty training him. I told her how much I appreciated it and how I hadn’t even known till we went out to eat.  

She stepped back, looked at me and said, “Wait a minute. He is potty trained.”

"Yes, you did a great job, He stands up and everything." I was so thankful to her and so proud of him.

But she shook her head back and forth and said, “The first day he came, I asked him if he used the bathroom by himself and he said yes. So I sent him with the other boys to the bathroom and I ‘ve been doing that ever since. I thought he was potty trained. He hasn’t had any accidents.”

When I realized he had simply learned by watching the other boys a warm glow flowed through me. Pumkin potty trained himself.  I wanted to shout hallelujah. I felt like the luckiest woman alive.