So Sunday, some friends and I were sitting in the hallway at church (it’s okay, there is a couch there, we weren’t squatting on the floor), skipping Sunday School so we could chat.
Well, actually, I was skipping Sunday School so I could go over the lesson I was teaching the next hour (three hour church, people) and some friends stopped to chat with me, so we wound up skipping Sunday School to chat. Anyway, we had important stuff to discuss: our impending move, one friend’s pregnancy (which I did not know about!) and the other friend hoping they will get to stay in the area at least one more year before her husband’s job ships them off to heaven knows where (they are fearing the D.C. area). And, most importantly, we had to discuss the rescheduling of book club, which had to be canceled last week due to weather. This is the month we are discussing Twilight by Stephanie Meyer (and if you haven’t read this book yet, what are you waiting for?) so it is, of course, imperative that we don’t just scrap it for the month. Seriously, stop reading this post and get yourself over to Amazon or half.com or somewhere like that and order the book. Now!
Okay, if you’re still reading, I’ll assume you’ve gotten the book already (yes, it’s fluff, but it’s worth it; and don’t you deserve a little fluff in your life anyway?).
Right, so we were sitting in the hallway, on the sofa, chatting, when another woman, who was apparently helping out in the nursery this week, walked by in the direction of the bathroom with a little boy. A few minutes later she walked back with the little boy, headed back to class, and laughingly made the comment that she is glad she has girls because little boys are dangerous in the bathroom.
“You’ve really gotta watch out for those things!” she said.
We all laughed and, of course, our chit-chatting went off on a potty training tangent. There were a few comments made about how messy little boys are in the bathroom when they are potty training, spraying stuff everywhere except for where it is supposed to be. Honestly, I’ve never had that problem (well, maybe once or twice, but really, that’s it) with Tank Boy. His aim is pretty true.
The problem I do have with Tank Boy is keeping him from falling off the potty seat.
Okay, I have probably overstated my problem because, to my knowledge, he has only ever fallen off once; but I constantly worry about him falling off the potty seat because he doesn’t sit on it. He squats. Yes, when nature calls, my son climbs up onto the toilet, one foot on either side of the seat, and perches himself precariously in a squat position. I would take a picture of it for you all, but that strikes me as gross. I mean, it’s funny, it’s sooooo funny, but to post a picture of a little kid perched over the toilet taking care of business? Gross.
Now, just for clarification purposes, I must tell you that nobody taught him to do this. I taught him to sit on the potty (it’s Daddy’s job to teach him that standing up trick). One day he just started squatting on the potty. He has since informed me that he does this because the seat is cold. Whatever. Also for clarification purposes, the times he has “missed” it has been because I have walked by the bathroom and said something to the effect of, “Kid, why don’t you just sit on the seat?” thus distracting him from his business at hand, and causing him to shift his body weight ever so slightly to his heels as his focus shifts away from his stream of urine to my stream of consciousness.
So I shared this story with the chit-chatting friends at church and they were laughing so hard I thought the tears were going to start rolling. Then one of them, through her laughter, said . . .
“Squatting? You mean like he was back in his own country? Well, you know, you can take these kids out of their country, but some parts of their country just stick with them!”
And you know what happened then?
We all laughed some more.
You see, the woman who made that comment? She is an adult international adoptee. She has many siblings who are also adult international adoptees from various countries. And, quite frankly, ever since I first found him squatting over the potty I’ve kinda thought to myself, “Is this an Asian thing?”
I mean, I’ve seen pictures of squatting Asians (mostly Vietnamese, and not going to the bathroom) though something like squatting would seem like more like a learned behavior to me; but here is my three-year-old, Korean-born son squatting to pee of his own volition. It’s hard not to wonder silently to one’s-self, “Is this an Asian thing?”
At any rate, if you have a little boy of any ethnicity who squirts all over your bathroom, I’d highly recommend teaching him to squat on the pot*. It will keep his aim true.
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt says hello.
*It actually makes me cringe when people refer to the toilet as “the pot” but, unfortunately, it rhymes with “squat”. The depths to which I will sink for literary craft . . .