Taking the p*ss too….


This is a sequel to a previous post called ‘taking the p*ss’

As explained in that post we were regularly mopping out the nursery toilets due to the carelessness, inexperience and sheer  exuberance of the children we worked with. After the previous incident we were rightly suspicious of all the boys and tried to monitor their comings and goings to identify the mysterious floor wetter.

We had no luck for several weeks, in spite of our detailed surveillance operation, and were fed up with having to swab the decks at regular intervals. It gradually dawned on us that, unlikely as it may seem, it might be the girls!

A new observation regime was implemented that involved checking every child in and out of the loo (without impeding their dignity, self-respect or human rights obviously.)

The result, when it came was most unexpected. My nursery nurse tracked three girls, all bestest of best friends, into the toilet cubicles. Once in they all piled into the same cubicle and tried to use the same toilet simultaneously. The result was as wet and messy as you would expect.

Mystery solved, now we just had to figure out how to stop them doing it without upsetting the delicate balance of their friendship.

What did you and your best friend used to get up to – and is it repeatable?


Taking the p*ss


When you are in London you are never more than 5 feet away from a rat – Or so it is said. Similarly, when you are in a nursery class you are never more than 5 minutes away from a puddle. Spillages around the water tray, spilt drinks, taps left running and the unfortunate (but inevitable) results of children deciding to share toilet cubicles. Then of course there is the plain old, straight forward ‘accident’ from children who are not yet quite sure when to go, how to go, where to go or sometimes, why they should even bother to go in any particular place.

A lot of time and effort goes into making sure the floor is kept dry and not permanently awash with various fluids. Also that parents are supported in helping their children develop the skills they need to function in society when they get older.

To non-initiates this either sounds:

ridiculously easy – ‘how hard can it be?’


hellishly hard – ‘seriously though, how do you do that?’

One of the little girls I taught was wetting herself daily, in spite of the fact that she was completely toilet trained at home, and had been for some time. We kept having to put her into our spare nursery underwear, the ones with ‘nursery’ written across them with indelible marker pen so we would get them back.

Eventually, after some detective work, she confessed that she was doing it deliberately – so she could wear the special ‘nursery pants’. If only all problems were so easily solved, we wrote ‘nursery’ on her pants with a felt tip pen and the problem stopped.

Then there was the boy who could not get a grip on things – literally. He just stood with his hands on his hips and let things take their course, spraying around like an unattended hose. We worked long and hard on resolving this, although I suspect that as he is now a fully grown adult male he probably still does it from time to time after the pub.

One morning he came over to me and proffered the front of his joggers, “feel that” he commanded.

Unthinkingly I took a hold as I asked “Why?”

“I’ve wet myself !” he said taking my now soggy hand and leading me towards the spare clothes cupboard.