My three-year old son has seen me try many different methods to train him. I mean, letting him go naked, giving him candy when he was successful, chiflada giving him stickers, keeping a chart and keeping an open-door policy. It. It.
Sometimes a strategy might seem to work for just a few days. After a few small successes, he stopped being interested in the strategy. It didn’t stick. I tried to step away, but it didn’t work. Many people told me that he would do it by himself when he was ready. They also said that I shouldn’t push him too hard. But here’s the truth: I knew he was ready. He was being chiflada.
Potty Training | No chiflada In My House
Chiflada/o is a Mexican-Spanish slang term that basically means “spoiled”. It’s actually a lot worse. Let me give you a quick lesson in Spanish: words ending with an “o” usually mean male and words ending with an “a” often refer to female. Amiga, for example, is a friend who is male and amigo, amiga, for a friend who is female. Girls are called chiflado, while boys are called chiflado.
Growing up, being called chiflada by my grandma or cousin was an insult. To be called chiflada, no matter how stupid one was, was the worst thing. Nobody wants to be called the chiflada child. There is no one.
It was the hardest two days of my life.
Ok, not the most difficult. I meant, I went through labor, pushing and a c section. These two days were, however, a close second.
My son kicked and screamed for two days to get to the bathroom. Sometimes I had to drag him there and pick him up. He would either run away or drop his dead weight to the ground as the timer went off. I spent the next two days hawk-eyeing him. He would flee to the corner and use the potty to go about his business, which I knew was the best way to show him that he was in control.
He began to do other protests that he wouldn’t normally do during those two days. He threw things, yelled “no!” a lot and was generally more reckless than on a normal day. My mama did not raise a chiflada, which was a blessing. I yelena aot was clear that I needed to hold my ground and put my foot down, just like her many times.
By the third day, he was walking chiflada himself to the potty.
He knew that I was serious and he didn’t want to be dragged to the toilet. He began to tell me excitedly every time his potty watch went off, and he would run to the toilet on his own. He would then remind me that sometimes you need to wait mama.