The other day I was walking past the baby gate when I noticed C in the den, taking his pants off.

For those that don’t know, when your toddler has just completed potty training, this is a moment for fast action. There’s no telling whether he has to go potty, whether he’s forgotten where he is and is planning to go potty right there, or if he just went potty and he’s trying to get out of those nasty wet pants.

Consequently, I leapt into action, and I mean literally “leapt”. I jumped over the baby gate, shouting “Wait! What are you doing? Wait for Daddy!”

At least that’s what I intended to shout. It may have come out more as “Wai-AAAAAhhhhhhh!” as my back foot hit the top of the gate and I had to do some rather cartoonish mid-air balancing to prevent my face from planting itself in the kitchen tile.

C looked at me, confused.

“What? I’m Tarzan! Tarzan! Tarzan doesn’t wear pants.”

Oh, uh, sorry. You can be Tarzan. Wait! Tarzan does wear underpants, doesn’t he?

“Yep.”

Okay, then. Go about your business. I’m just going to stand here and rub my ankle for a little while.