But if none of this has occurred and you are indeed reading this (open-mouthed in horror, no doubt), then yes, Babyzoid, I apologise and no doubt have some major sucking up to do. And okay, okay, I will stop calling you Babyzoid.... One day.
The problem is your poop. Your big, internally stockpiled, begrudgingly parted with poop.
You need to let it go, girl. For your sake and your loving, but highly frazzled mummy.
See, you mastered wee-wee training (surely there must be a better term for this) really quickly - and well over a year ago now. A slight bit of reluctance, a handful of accidents, and that was it! Virtually within a week once we busted out the rewards system. We bribed, and you responded. You knew the value of your liquid gold (eww) and you enjoyed your Haribo payment to the max.
But poops? Well, no amount of encouraging, coaxing, cajoling, manipulating, pleading, or threatening will work. And it's not like we haven't been consistent with every method we've tried. It's just that we've been trying for that blinking long. And you're not having any of it. At first you would withhold until it became solid and spherical (ouch), then you'd get distressed and eventually pass it in your night time pull-up, all hard and sputnik-like. And nothing, but nothing would persuade you to do it in the potty (back in the day) or the toilet now you're a big girl. You'll wee on the toilet, no problem. But pooping? No way.
You're terrified, poor lamb. And i made a mistake. Eventually I tried to push you too hard, in spite of reading a zillion advice pieces that told me not to - just because I'd tried everything else and, let's face it, you can be a defiant little missy and sometimes do require a firm hand (metaphorically speaking - we never smacked you, even though sometimes... *deep breath* *count to ten*)
So yes, the pushing didn't work, so we held off again, and now you are back to withholding. In spite of Lactulose, in spite of Syrup of Figs, in spite of giving you dry Bran Flakes to eat as 'bran crisps' (yum!) And we don't know what to do. Our lovely doctor says that we just have to let you forget the trauma of the poops that really hurt and in time you will do it. I hope so. I'm hoping that you aren't getting ready to go to Uni, making sure to leave space in your suitcase for the extra-large pull-ups for the night time movement.
And I hope I didn't screw you up too badly when I got upset and said you weren't trying. I feel very guilty about that. If we can just aim for being fully toilet-trained by the time you go to school next September, I'll be one ecstatically relieved mummy.