Lay Off My Tomatoes: A Story of Testicular Fortitude
Potty Training – WTF
Potty training is no fun task. We’re not officially at the full stage yet, so being first-time parents, we’re kind of winging it. Being a man with a son, I figured I’d bite the bullet and try to help the poor kid pee like a man. So…somehow my wife and I decided that the boy has to watch me pee in order to know that this is how adults do it. It’s a very awkward lesson. While using the nurturing/sing-songy voice explaining how “big boys” pee, I have to somehow concentrate on doing it while he watches. Before we had him, I would go to the bathroom behind a locked door. Every. Time.
So there I am, peeing with the door open, a wide-eyed boy leaning into the bathroom (which is about as small as a closet), staring at my dong. My voice is shaking and I’m trying to calmly ask him if he wants to pee like daddy does, as I’m forcing the urine out as fast as it can go. I think I might have torn some internal tubing from throttling it out that fast.
And if you’re a shy guy like me that is a first-time father trying to potty-train your kid – and you tell me that you don’t labor over whether you’re going to take your balls out also as you’re peeing – you’re a bold-face liar. You just don’t know what to do. Are you doing it right? Is this how other people pee? Are you teaching your kid bad form?
(Slightly off-topic: Kev Kage did a “study” on CollegeHumor back in 2007 about whether people sit or stand when they wipe their butt, and found that it’s halfsies, and people don’t know that the other way even exists.)
I’m panicking. I don’t want to make my kid an awkward pee-er, and I certainly don’t want to teach him something that is going to get him made fun of later when he’s at a urinal in middle school. All I need is some punk kid in the grade above him asking “hey douche, why the hell do you pull your pants all the way down to the floor when you piss?” I mean, not that I do that.
Things get worse, back in the bathroom. I finish peeing, and I ask my son if he wants to help me flush. We push the handle down together – again, awkward, since I’ve still got myself in my hand – and he says (and waves) “bye bye” to the pee as it swirls down the hole. He also blows kisses to it, which sometime later I’m going to have to put a stop to. But as I’m getting ready to stuff myself back in my shorts, my kid actually leans in further, still blowing kisses…AND I DRIBBLE ON HIS HEAD. My god. I didn’t mean to – I was doing the post-pee shake, and everything just happened so fast.
My wife is convinced that she lives in a frat house. Between the ball-kicking and lack of traditional learning, I’d say it’s a fairly accurate description. My kid and I have fun together and occasionally, one of us gets hurt. Usually it’s me, and I just sweat profusely for a minute or two, feel nauseated and then it’s back to the action. I love my kid – at the expense of my junk. And isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?