Tonawanda News — I only vaguely recall my own potty-training experience, but I in no way remember so much pleasure being taken in doing my business.
Penny and Rigby are in the final stretch of the assisted potty phase of their lives. Both are largely independent in the bathroom at this point, but certain finishing touches require a bit of parental care.
And they are quite good at roping me into accompanying them while they answer nature’s call. I’m not sure if I am a form of support, a pair of helping hands or a straight man to their comedic routines. But their bathroom antics are far from routine.
What unfortunately did become routine for a while was a call to the plumber. Rigby was apparently trying to hone his geometry skills by figuring out which toys were just the right size to fit down the toilet pipes. He forgot to carry the one, though, because anything he flushed would get stuck in the piping in the basement. For the $300 spent the last time a plumber came, a good math tutor could have instead been summoned.
Or maybe they just needed to do a bit more wiggling. That could explain why, when Rigby called me in during one recent trip to the potty, he was sitting on the toilet, pants down, doing the “Gangham Style” dance. I couldn’t help but break into hysterics, especially when he slid partway in while doing that little horse-riding maneuver. What else could I do? I picked him up and then started doing it with him.
I laugh a little bit less when he determines the roll of toilet of paper needs to walk the plank. Actually, I hate pretty much anytime he tosses anything in the toilet. There are some environments in which fishing simply doesn’t work, and that would be near the top of the list.