Thursday, December 26th, 2013
3 years, 1 month.
As I was lying down on the floor in the aftermath of watching you open Christmas gifts, you announced to to the whole family that you needed to go potty.
You recruited your Uncle Andrew to accompany you to the half bathroom, which is basically connected to the living room, where everyone was.
Not only did you want him there for moral support, but you wanted the bathroom door open so the rest of us could be aware of all the excitement.
There you sat down on your training potty, with your face between your knees as you looked for… results.
Uncle Andrew sat across from you on the actual potty, seat down of course, as he acted as your coach.
Once you realized you were through doing the deed, you immediately looked up at him and proclaimed, “They don’t make Azteks anymore.”
You then added, “They don’t make Pontiacs anymore either.”
I’ve got two different theories on why you decided to announce what I’ve taught you about the demise of both Azteks and Pontiacs as we’ve sat in Nashville traffic everyday going to and from school.
One is that you were so deep in thought as were going potty, your brain focused on car facts to get you through it; to serve as a motivational distraction. Then, by the time you were done, you decided to share that news with Uncle Andrew.
The other theory, held by Uncle Andrew himself, is that in the likeness of a situation where two dudes try to change the subject after a seemingly akward shared experience, one says to the other, “How ’bout them 49ers (or other relevant sports team)? Heck of a game, heck of game.”
Either theory could be valid.
However, based on the look of your face as the training potty was being emptied into the big potty to be flushed, I think you were anything but ashamed.
That’s a look of potty pride, if I ever did see it.
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