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Boy, fewer things get us more excited (uh…used loosely, of course) six times in the same day than a little boy whizzing in the toilet and bragging about a dry pull-up.  Though how he figured out how he could do it all standing up is still a mystery to me.  I, uh, wasn’t the one to show him.  It’s just now we’ve got a toilet-seat-in-the-upward-direction problem.  And an I-forgot-to-wash-my-hands-after-I-peed problem. 

But don’t grieve about flushing.  He’s been an expert for a some time.  It is, after all, the highlight of the whole experience.  Whiz first.  Jump up second, and see what your whiz looks like in the toilet.  Flush third, only hang onto the handle until your eyes gloss over and the toilet’s completely confused about filling or unfilling.  Run out with your pants in mid-struggle, fourth, and tell the world you whizzed and it wasn’t in your pants.  Then leave wiping for people who know what they’re doing.

Ahh…but fifth, retreat to the bathroom when no one is looking and close the door.  Bring a screwdriver.  For uh…no reason, really.  At first flush when mommy busts through the door with her shoulder, show her the screwdriver.  Give her space as she freaks out and scans for holes or dents or chips.  Only there won’t be any.  Just like there isn’t any toilet paper. 

Which means, she’ll gasp, “how much toilet paper did you flush?”  And you’ll answer quickly and accurately, “TONS.”

Then sixth, because there’s nothing left to do or say, wait together as the toilet bowl belches, burps and refills.

It’s the right thing to do…after such a wonderful flush.

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No Responses to “The Six Principles of Potty Pride”

  1. Leslie says:

    Favorite! Love this one.

    Kendall likes to flush toilet paper as well. I taught her to rip the corner off so she will do this one, tiny piece at a time till she gets caught in there. Or till she accidentally drops the whole roll in. Or decides to splash in the water.

    Whichever is first.

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