That’s not the forest Frank.

Mrs Frank’s Place – “Hey, can you switch the towels from the washer to the dryer for me?”

Me – “Sure, I just have to go potty first.”

Mrs Frank’s Place – “Really.”

I didn’t even realize I had said “potty”.   It’s been a rough go, you know, getting Frank to go.

But we’re knee-deep in it now.  Figuratively of course, although there were a few times….  It’s crunch time.  We are now in mission mode.  Peeing and pooping with a purpose and there are 3 distinct objectives.

The boy must be able to: 1. Know when he has to go, and then actually go. 2. Hit the target. 3. Hike up his drawers, button his pants, and wash his hands.  He must be able to do all this before he can start the next and last year of pre-school.  To quote one of my favorite lines from Full Metal Jacket – “It’s a huge poop* sandwich and we all have to take a bite.” (* sanitized for this family friendly blog)

Number 1 is where the problems are.  No, not #1, he pees great, best pee-er I’ve ever seen.  It’s 1. on the list above where the issue lies.  The particular problem with 1. is #2.  Get that?  He seems to have no earthly or bodily idea when #2 is coming, and when he finally realizes it, we are way past the point of no return, so he hides under the dinning room table until the storm passes.  Of course the storm doesn’t really pass, it just transfers from him to me. I would be remiss if I didn’t recognize the fact that Frank’s Thomas the Tank Engine underwear is the ultimate victim here.

Obviously it’s my fault.  Frank got so good at doing all three list items as it relate to peeing that we never really concentrated on the pooping.  I just assumed in this one instance math laws would be suspended and 2 would follow 1.  Like any hack golfer who goes to the range, we only hit the clubs we’re already good at hitting.  We don’t work the tough clubs cause we like to hit the ball.

Well, it was gratifying to see Frank jump up, yell, “I have to go potty!” then  run to the can and shut the door.  You knew he was successful when the sound of a roaring NASCAR engine shook the door.  His battery operated Lightning MaQueen potty took another one for the team.  The unmistakable sound of his step-ladder being drug and then slammed into place in front of the sink comes next.  Water on, whine of the soap dispenser, then water off.  The ladder slams back to its resting place so he can open the door, and… “Daddy I went potty, do I get a piece of candy!?!”

Yes Frank, yes you do.  I imagine this is what a fine opera sounds like to the learned listener.

He has managed a few successful #2 trips, and he used the big potty too.  No one is more thankful than Lightning MaQueen.

But in the mean time we’ve amped up our game in the #1 department.

I gambled the other day, deciding on underwear instead of a pull-up while playing in the yard.  We were playing Driving Range, (read here for a definition: And so it begins), and Frank jumps from his tractor just as I have lofted a perfect 7 iron that was definitely going to hit the truck bed of the tractor.  In other words he chooched me because he knew I was going to win that round.  The boy hates to lose.  Anyway, he comes running, yapping about having to pee.  He wants to run inside and heads for the deck.  I calmly tell him to come back, and he only gets more excited.  I walk, again calmly, over to the woods lining our back yard and motion him to come over. He’s incredulous.  I tell him to pull his pants down, and now he gives me a look like “the old man has just gone round the bend.” But he drops his drawers and I tell him to point it away from his feet. If you don’t know what “IT” is, well…  I can’t help you.  Aim at that tree, I say.  Amazing how quickly he understood and applied that concept.  Two seconds after I told him to aim, he was hitting everything that moved. Ants, ladybugs, etc…

After he yanked up his drawers he says, “Let’s call mommy and tell her I peed in the forest!” It was like a brave new world had opened up in front of him.

Much like Columbus, I bet, when he found the new world, only to realize Amerigo Vespucci had found the American continent before ole Chris even figured out his three ships were on a tiny island (Dominican Republic) and not on the east coast of India.

Yeah, it was probably something like that.