Adventures in potty training

The girls and I are looking forward to taking a trip next week. It’s the 50th anniversary of Los Angeles Lutheran Jr/Sr High School, so we thought we’d attend the celebrations. It’s been three years since we’ve seen many of our friends, former students and colleagues. We’re also going to spend some time in Arizona, my folks had their 40th anniversary at Easter but we weren’t able to make it back.

We decided to drive rather than fly, so I’m excited to test out the new minivan and I’m excited to get to see all he awesome landscapes this great land has to offer. Grace is excited to see the beach and her new cousin, "baby Daniel," and if she’s lucky, a Diamondbacks game.

"Me like beesbwall," she says whenever we catch a game on TV.

There is something I’m not looking forward to. Bethany’s grandma doesn’t like the fact that we’re traveling, let alone to L.A. while the nation’s on an orange terrorism alert, but that doesn’t phase me. We’re driving, not flying so we’ll avoid all the hassle of upgraded security. I admit, if I let myself, my earthquake-phobia could creep into the back of my mind, but that’s not what I’m dreading most about this trip.

My biggest fear is potty time.

Let me ask you something. How old do you think a child should be for it to be appropriate for a father to stop taking his daughter to the men’s room? I’m thinkin four. I’ll tell you why.

First of all, men’s public restrooms are generally disgusting. Some gas stations or truck stops are cleaner than others. Rest Areas vary on their maintenance quality greatly from state to state. I have found that Nebraska and Iowa do a much better job for example than say, Kansas and Colorado.

Without dwelling too long on a distasteful subject, I should explain to you ladies that each of the four walls in a men’s stall has a unique purpose generally not seen in women’s restrooms. I know only because I’ve drawn a paycheck as a janitor when I was younger.

One wall inevitably is reserved for phone numbers, this of course is a stereotype you’ve seen in sitcoms and movies, but it’s one that’s true. Another, depending on local demographics, is reserved for chewing gum. These walls are quite interesting from an artist’s point of view, actually, since different brands have different colors and textures. From the parent of a four year old, on the other hand, it’s a hassle to keep their hands of the used confections and to explain that one only wants to chew fresh, new gum that one unwraps one’s self.

The next wall is a gross one, so skip this paragraph if you have a weak stomach. It’s the booger wall. Yes, ladies, we know it’s impolite to pass gas and pick our noses in public, so it has to be done somewhere, where else would you suggest? With fewer and fewer men carrying handkerchiefs, if you don’t eat it, it has to go somewhere. Though I for one don’t know what’s wrong with toilet paper, but in men’s defense, most public restrooms are always out.

The last wall, (two if there’s no bubble gum wall) is dedicated to a number of things. Partly as sort of a message board. On the internet, they’d call this a "bulletin board," or a "news group." In a men’s room these can be sexual solicitations or social-political discussions, often featuring racial epithets and allegations of unconventional sexual preference. Perhaps most interesting to anthropologists hundreds of years from now will be the displays of erotic artwork.

Needless to say, the more Grace can recognize letters and words and the more questions she keeps asking, the less I want to be responsible for her and the more comfortable with putting Bethany in charge.

Not long ago, Ellie, our youngest showed an interest in getting potty trained. When a 16 month old does that, you’ve got to take advantage of your narrow window of opportunity. We figure on taking along an "adapter," you know, one of those mini-seats that you put on top of the main seat for tiny fannies.

Here’s how the break-thru went. I’ve since apologized to Bethany for my insensitive reaction.

Ellie followed her sister into the bathroom, pulled down her britches, unfastened her diaper, sat on the trainer-potty and tinkled all by her self. Bethany was elated. Like any proud mom, she immediately called her mom to celebrate the achievement with "Grammy."
This is when I came home from school to find Ellie in the living room, still no pants, leaving a trail of poops behind her