Owen turned 2 last month, and somewhere in the haze of his birthday cake I decided it was time to think about potty training. By “think about,” I mean I opened a fresh Notion page and started building a readiness checklist.
My wife watched me do this and said, “You know the toddler doesn’t read your spreadsheet, right?” Fair. But I’m an IT project manager. If there isn’t a checklist, did the project even happen?
So here’s what I dug up on the major methods, what the research actually supports, and what went down in our house. As always: this worked for us, your kid is a different human, YMMV.
Readiness matters more than the method
Here’s the thing every method skips over in the marketing: the single biggest predictor of success isn’t which book you buy. It’s whether your kid is actually ready.
The signs I tracked on my (yes) checklist: staying dry for 2+ hours, showing awareness of going (the classic squat-and-hide), being able to pull pants up and down, and showing some interest in the toilet. The research on “readiness signs” is honestly thinner than the parenting internet implies, but the consensus is that pushing before roughly 18-24 months tends to drag things out.
Owen hit most of the signs. He’d also started announcing “poo poo” mid-poo, which is the toddler equivalent of a status update after the deploy already failed. Close enough.
The 3-day method
The 3-day method is exactly what it sounds like: you clear your calendar, stay home, and go all-in for a long weekend. The idea is intensive practice and lots of fluids so there are lots of chances to catch a pee.
The appeal to me was obvious — it’s a sprint with a defined end date. My PM brain loves a timebox. The reality is that “3 days” is more of a brand than a promise. Plenty of kids need a week or two to really click, and the “done in 3 days” framing set me up to feel like a failure on day 4.
What I’ll say for it: the concentrated focus genuinely helps. Stopping and starting is confusing for a toddler. If you can block real time, do.
Oh Crap and the naked method
“Oh Crap! Potty Training” by Jamie Glowacki is the one most parents I know swear by. It’s structured in blocks: you start with the kid bottomless at home so they can feel themselves go, then slowly add clothing and reduce prompting.
The naked method is essentially block one on its own. No diaper, no underwear, just a toddler and the wisdom of natural consequences. It works because there’s no absorbent layer hiding the cause and effect.
We mostly followed the Oh Crap structure. The first day was, and I cannot stress this enough, a series of small floods. I steam-cleaned the rug twice. By day three, Owen was making it to the potty maybe half the time, which the book correctly frames as progress, not failure.
What actually worked for us
The boring truth: consistency and not making a big deal out of accidents did more than any single method. When Owen had an accident and we stayed calm (“pee goes in the potty, let’s clean up”), he recovered fast. The one time I sighed audibly, he held it for the rest of the afternoon out of what I can only assume was spite.
A few specific things that helped: a tiny floor potty in the main living area so the toilet wasn’t a trek, a consistent prompt schedule (we’d offer roughly every 45 minutes early on), and zero rewards beyond genuine praise. We skipped the candy economy and didn’t regret it.
Nights are a separate project entirely, by the way. Staying dry overnight is hormonal and developmental, not a training thing, so we left Owen in a nighttime diaper and ignored it completely.
Where we landed
Three weeks in, Owen is reliably daytime trained with the occasional accident when he’s deep in play and ignores his own body’s memos. My checklist, predictably, did not capture the part where he’d insist on flushing fourteen times per visit. The spreadsheet never prepares you for the kid.
If you’re staring down potty training right now: pick a method, sure, but hold it loosely. Watch your actual kid more than the book. Stay calm when the floods come, because they will come. And if you also built a readiness checklist — no judgment here, I’m right there with you. You’ve got this.