My potty hell

We endured so many accidents our washing machine developed an exhausted groaning sound. When we gave in and put the boys (then over three years old) back in Pampers, the nappies resembled some kind of massive hammock affairs. I could barely lug the enormous packets home from the supermarket. Friends reassured us, 'Chill out. They won’t start school in nappies.' But what if they did? And what if, at 15, a vast wad of stenchy padding created ridicule in communal showers?

Then overnight, it stopped. Trousers were dry. I stopped sneaking up behind my children, staring at their crotches.

They were trained. Crucially, they were ready to be trained. But naturally, as highly intelligent parents, we knew that already.