You'll forgive my absence last week. As it was "Father's Day", the last thing I wanted to do was write a column when I could spend a little quality time with my family.
That said, down to business.
I think all fathers should play an active role in toilet training their kids. They come up with these cutesy little rhymes and songs to encourage tinkling and other functions while on board the porcelain rhinoceros.
Forget that.
All we have to do guys, is just be ourselves.
Without getting too gross, think about how much time you spend on the can for your 'morning ritual', with the magazine rack by your side and the roll of toilet paper above it.
And the time you spend 'grunting' before the desired 'results' are achieved.
The grunting is a fun part for me. I squat on the floor in front of my soon-to-be two-year-old daughter, grunting until the vein in the center of my forehead pops out, and my wife trying to stifle her giggles at the sight.
The one not stifling is Savannah. She lets fly a spate of giggling as she's watching her father risk a stroke for the sake of getting her to go the big girl way.
Big-boy style, that is.
And two weeks ago, it finally paid off. Though three weeks ago, she did do "Number One", which earned her an Elmo sticker.
After breakfast, I watched her go into 'grunt mode' as she finished her last bite of oatmeal. I immediately took her to the bathroom and stripped her down, placed her on the seat, and gave her my best 'grunt'.
She giggled and returned the gesture in kind.
Plunk...then splash.
Woo hoo!
Doing a visual 'confirmation', I expressed my excitement and complimented her accordingly. She probably didn't understand what there was to be so excited about, but I'm sure it's a story she'll be willing to forget in her future years.
Especially when prospective suitors arrive on my doorstep. And I will be prepared to tell it...verbatim.
"Mom! Tell Dad to stop it!"
Heh heh heh.
TWO WEEKS FROM TODAY: Graduation Party
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