Potty Training

   Its been six weeks. Six intense weeks. Every 45 minutes, "Jack? Do you need to go potty?" or "Hey Jack, let's go poop," but nothing. Not a drop, not even a little rabbit pellet. Honestly not even any effort. I say push, he goes "unnnngghghg," but doesn't really push. He grits his teeth, but clenches his cheeks all at once. It's a game. A game where I lose 30 minutes and he wins a piece of chocolate after I give up. A game I'm certain will confuse him later in life, or cause him to believe that he can have whatever he wants if he is stubborn enough. Makes me think he is more like me than I originally considered.

   We decided on break though. Now that all my neighbors know I'm attempting to potty train the boy, I figure its time for a break. Actually, I calculated that it was time for a break. Only so many times a man can yell, "Would you just take a crap? Please for the love of God!" Only so many times my neighbors can hear that. I started to feel I needed a break the first time a neighbor quoted me in annoying head bobbing high pitched voice - "would you just take a crap..."

   I find this all surprising though. This child, the one who refuses to take a dump, is the master of dumps, or so it has been for the last five years. Every time I turn around he takes a dump. I've often wondered if there is a wormhole in his colon that allows crap to come from others, and get dumped into his diaper. I could swear that more comes out than goes in. A hot dog goes in, and three small turkey sized loads come out, spaced one hour apart. I don the gas mask so often its left impressions in my face. My poor wife has nearly lost her sense of smell. Its so bad we started spraying shoe deodorant on him bum hoping it would lighten things up. It doesn't smell like a meadow though, at least not one that hasn't been defiled by a pack of well-fed bears.

   All that crap, and he can't squeeze an ounce out on the toilet. Its like watching water boil. You start out status quo. Then you get a little bored and start to stir the water, as if that will help the little bubbles form. The same goes for the potty training, time passes and you intervene - "You want to sit on the big potty/you want to sit on the little potty?"

   Its sad, because he's not my buddy anymore. He's the little bastard who makes me miss the primetime lineup every night. He's the backwards redneck kid who can drop a deuce unless there is a wad of cotton wrapped around his ass to catch it and smear it into his nether regions.

   But tonight was different. Tonight - he looked at me at dinner, and said he had to go to the bathroom. It looked urgent. It had been more than two days. A sort of standoff had started. I insisted he go on the toilet. He insisted that he needed to keep things under wraps. What resulted was a stubborn naked child who couldn't leave the house for three days and grow increasingly uncomfortable.

   I was excited, but it was the wrong moment. I was alone at the table, with two purses and two boys. I would have to leave this in the hands of the eight year old. The older one, the one we didn't have this much trouble with. He wasn't easy either, hereditary I think. So off they went. The wife and a friend of hers has gone off to the ladies room together, leaving me with the kids, the purses, and the food.

   They hadn't been gone for five minutes when a concerned looking waiter approached the table. "You are needed in the restroom sir." My mind was reeling. I had no idea what could possibly have happened. The waiter wasn't panicked, but didn't look happy either. At just that moment my wife and companion arrived at the table.

   "Where's Jack and Evan?" I let her know that they went to "work things out," but that a waiter had just come asking for me to come see a situation. She looked concerned. Which wasn't surprising. Somehow my children always managed to cause a scene, or to do exactly the opposite. To cause a massive catastrophe, but to so cleverly hide it, that no one knew until we were long gone. If only that had more developed that talent tonight, I could have stayed and enjoyed my food.

   I rose and went to the bathroom not knowing what to expect. What I found surprised me. There, buck naked, poised on a urinal, squatting like a monkey, and holding a plate that didn't belong to him, shoveling food into his mouth was Jack. In the urinal a pile of shit so tall that had it been dropped behind and elephant, the elephant would be surprised when he turned to see it.

   Jack smiled at me, and held the plate out, mustering a mouth filled "whan sum?" The waiter stood there, quite annoyed. He proceeded to tell me that moments ago an undressed child had walked up to the table closest to the restrooms and commandeered a guests plate. He simply started at the guest, pursed his lips, grabbed the plate and walked away. Another boy, this one dressed, had looked on shrugged, and said "thanks for the grub dude."

   Moments later, the same boy, plate in hand had emerged from the restroom, walked up to another table, grabbed a banana from one plate, and a piece of chicken from another, looked around the table, rolled his bottom lip out, and then went back to the restroom.

   On the plate were the remnants of some mashed potatoes and a half eaten drumstick. All I could muster was "Where's the banana?" My other son made his timely appearance and pointed to dung pile and the banana peel that protruded unevenly from the side, almost buried as if here were trying to hide it.

   At that, Jack jumped down, looked up at me and said, "That wasn't so bad. I like these tall toilets." He then proceeded to put his clothes on, and gave the urinal a flush, sending bits of poo and water onto the ground.

   Jack walked over, grabbed Evan's hand and said, "Let's go man, I'm all done here." Evan shrugged, but didn't quite look horrified. Somehow he know, and I knew too that this was par for the course for our family.

   Jack walked up to the waiter, and in the most impressive sentence strung together by a five year old, he said "You shouldn't stare at people, its weird." Then he left the room. The waiter stood there mouth agape, and before I could even say a word, Jack walked back in, handed the waiter the plate, and pointed to the toilet saying "Your probably gonna want to get someone to clean that up," and then left again leaving the waiter without words.

   Needless to say, that was the proudest moment of my life in relation to him.