Against my better judgement, J decided to teach C to go potty standing up. Why do I say against my better judgement? Because he’s just barely tall enough and he’s easily distracted. This is a combination that seems to me like a recipe for disaster.

Once she put the idea in his head, however, she quickly discovered that she didn’t know what’s involved in the process of little boys standing in front of a potty. She tried to get me to help by explaining to me why it’s absolutely necessary for him to learn. When I was unmoved, she finally fell back on admitting that she’d already started and didn’t know what she was doing.

So there I was the other night, in the bathroom with the little guy dropping his trousers.

Have you ever been forced into a situation that you know is going to go badly? Do you know that sinking feeling that comes with certain impending doom? If not, congratulations, and I hope you have kids some day. If so, well, that was where I was.

I squatted next to him and positioned him so close to the potty that the top of his legs were touching. Then I told him to use his hand and aim for the water at the bottom of the toilet. I impressed upon him the importance of making sure it only went in the water. Everything went well. When he was done, I told him to give a little shake to make sure there weren’t any drips left.

He leapt back and shook his whole body as if he were a dog shaking the water out of his fur. Little golden droplets sprayed everywhere.

Horrified I tried to stand up and back away, but stumbled and fell backwards against the doorjamb. “No! No!  Just your pee-pee!  Just shake your pee-pee!”

He planted his feet firmly in place and shook his hips around, looking down at his privates and laughing.

More little drops were flung about the bathroom.

Then he looked down at his foot and stopped laughing. “Uh-oh. Daddy, I got some pee-pee on my foot.”

Big surprise.