"Daddy, Go Potty!" Little Hoss yells at me.
Listen kid, Dad is over here pottying his brains out and screaming at me ain't gonna help matters. It makes me clench up. And I have been here a good ten minutes trying to show you how to do this action so quit your yelling and get to pooping!
"Little Hoss, you go potty!" I reply. I am once again debating with a 2 year old. Jesus.
I am trying to teach Little Hoss to use the bathroom because dear god I just can't take the diapers anymore, I just can't. I have 2 kids crapping like birds who just raided a shipment of exlax. Seriously, this is like tring to teach a hippo to drive a cab and not overcharge the foreigners. But I just casn't take it anymore, I just can't. It's breaking me, dear god it is.
Both of my kids have gotten into the habit of taking massive dumps at the exact same time, usually in some very crowded and inappropriate place, like lap time at the library. Good times, man, good times. Yes, jerkweed, that was my kid that just ripped a massive fart during "The Duck Makes Friends" story hour. You can't stop looking back here and wrinkling your nose, we all know it stinks, bad.
After the last Vienna Boys Pooping Choir performance of the "Great Abominable Shit" followed by, of course, "Grover Takes a Dump on Dad's Lap" I decided that it's time for more than two people in this house to learn to use the toilet. So here we are, sitting on the crapper daring each other to go potty. I triple dog dare you to take a dump in the potty, Little Hoss. That's right, a triple dog dare!
I'm currently trying to teach her that a good morning glory is about spending some relaxing time away from the hustle and bustle. That the solitary that sometimes you can only find in the bathroom, is priceless. But she isn't getting this. Probably because she never lets me go to the bathroom alone and always insists on a hug in mid grunt. Do you love your kids enough to give a hug during the glottal stop? I judge you.
I even went to the store and bought a very nice potty chair which has thus been named the Jr. Throne. It plays music when she finally decides to let some poop or pee into the realm of the unknown. Dear god, I crave the music so very, very much. Please sing me to sleep creepy high pitched computer voice. Sing to me the joys "Let's go potty" and "You did it! You did it!" I'm desperate, please let me here your Hal like voice.
So far, it's a no go. The only thing that she has picked up is that when you go potty you are supposed to read a book and occasionally grunt. Nothing makes you prouder than when your little girl puts down her copy of "Is Your Mamma a Llamma" to grunt "I LOVE YOU DADDY!"
Not to be harsh, but your Daddy would love you much more if you took a dump in the potty.