Potty Training

playing chess is like using the potty.  or is it?

...no, no, this isn't about me teaching myself new swear words.

One of the most rewarding aspects of being a parent of a beautiful two-year old is when they start potty training.  You pretty much look at them and give them a thumbs up, as if to say, "Hey my sweet little angel, thanks for not pissing in your pants anymore."

It really dawned on me the other day when I was getting all the garbage ready to go out.  I opened up the Diaper Genie to empty the bag out.  If you aren't a parent, you may not know what a Diaper Genie is.  It's an over-price garbage can designed specifically to put dirty diapers in.  And heaven forbid if you buy the wrong bags for it.  There are Diaper Genie and Diaper Genie II bags.  Mixing it up is like trying to jam a Sonic The Hedgehog cartridge into a Super Nintendo.

If I need to explain that analogy to you, then you're reading the wrong blog.

So there I was, emptying the Diaper Genie II (yeah, that's right, I've got the modern model with built-in iPod docking station) and I noticed that there were barely any dirty diapers in it.  Maybe three or four.  "Jesus Christ!" I shouted to nobody as I realized just how much money I'd be saving in diapers this month.  Imagine dropping $58 for a box of 142 things that you were just going to pee and poo in.  Now, stop with the over-active imagination and quit imagining that Tijuana hooker that came to mind.

We're really fortunate that the wonderful people at my daughter's daycare help out with the potty training.  It's really helped in progressing it along.  Sure, the trade-off is they teach her songs about Jesus, but I can forgive that. She listens to enough Prince around the house anyway to know what good music is.  But anyway, if it weren't for the ladies at daycare, my daughter wouldn't be nearly as far along with this whole potty training thing.

So then I started reminiscing about my own potty training experiences.  My memory only goes back so far, but I do know this - I was taught how to use the potty in the living room while watching shows like Today's Special and Bowling For Dollars.  My parents got this nifty little wooden chair with a big ol' hole in the seat and they'd just sit me on it with no pants on.  I wasn't allowed to get up from that spot until I dropped a big ol' deuce into the bowl-thing that was underneath.

That might explain why whenever I go number two today I think about mannequins and mice.

If I succeeded in doing my potty business, I'd be allowed to go play with toys or continue to live.  Like I said, my memory is pretty foggy.  I actually still have that little chair.  It's about fifteen feet away from where I'm writing this in the Fan-Cave.  I guess it's just a piece of my childhood I haven't been able to part with.  I took some good shits on that chair.  Oh, the memories.

my old shittin' hole

When my daughter uses the potty she is rewarded with a Scooby-Doo sticker.  Talk about motivation!  I wish I could get a prize every time I took a good healthy crap.  Imagine if every time you went to the bathroom you got a stamp on some kind of toilet card.  Every ten stamps and you're allowed to shit in your pants and run around the neighborhood like a crazy person.

Or even better, if you were given better rewards based on your quality of excrement.

Let's supposed you had a little poo.  Bam! Sticker.  Just one measly little Scooby-Doo sticker.  Seems fair and appropriate.

But what if you had one of those really awesome bowel movements that only comes along once every couple of months?  You know the kind - it's the length of your forearm, all one piece, and contains little corn remnants in it.  That should definitely be rewarded with a strawberry milkshake or dinner for two at Beefsteak Charlies.

Messy, wet, stinky diarrhea?  You get someone's shitty leftover Hallowe'en candy.  That's right.  Your prize is one of those little toffee-like candies that all the old ladies refer to as "kisses".  Those things alone will make you eat a bit healthier so you don't squeeze out a fountain again.

The Potty Master and Myself

Wow, I kinda rambled there.

So when I went to daycare to pick up my awesome daughter - The Potty Master as she shall henceforth be known - I gave her a great big hug.  For a few reasons:
1. She's getting good at using the potty
2. Doing so is saving me money on diapers
3. I can buy more beer with the money I'm saving on diapers
4. The empties from the beer I bought with the money I'm saving on diapers is like a third income to my household

I mean, let's not kid ourselves. There's going to be some bumps along the way.  She's going to pee the bed.  It's going to happen.  Even as an adult.  Fuck, we've all done it.  We've all had that moment where we woke up all warm and wet and made a mad dash to the bathroom while holding our junk in hopes that not too much would get on the walls.

We all have, right?

...right?

And on that note, I'm outta here!  Flush me away!