Potty-Trained

My daughter Colleen is pushing five now, just another month. As another year of her life, and mine, ticks by, I think back to a year ago around this time when she used the toilet for the first time. She took a little longer to get there than we would have liked – I would have preferred she popped out of the womb potty-trained – but she’s finally able to perform most tasks herself.

Although I changed Colleen’s first diaper, the joys of kiddie poop always escaped me. As the years wore on and the damage she inflicted on my nostrils grew, all I could do was pray that she became more independent and started using the potty herself.

Once she started using the potty, trips to the bathroom developed their own ritual, one that involved a lot of lifting up and down, flushing, wiping, washing, and a ton of waiting. I’ve heard that it requires something called patience, a characteristic of some higher beings, but not one I possess an abundance of.

“Daddy, can you pull my pants down?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Daddy, can you help me up?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Daddy, close the door.”

“Yes, dear. I’ll be right outside.”

“Okay.”

What else did I have to do anyway? Standing in the hall, or outside the booths in a public restroom was a great way to kill time. After all, I was a trained robot, specially designed for emergency toddler potty breaks.

“Daddy, I’m done. Help me down.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Daddy, can you wipe me?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Daddy, pull up my pants.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Flush the toilet, Daddy. I’m scared of it.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Lift me up. I have to wash my hands.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Daddy, can you turn the water on?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Daddy, get some soap.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Daddy, get me a paper towel.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Okay, I’m finished.”

After a five minute potty break, I needed to collapse on the couch, or better yet sit down on the nearest bar stool and slake my thirst with a few cold ones. And yes, I also washed my hands.

Now, she can manage most things herself. As the requests for help grow fewer and further between, it’s hard to admit, but I actually miss it.

Just when I consider myself potty-trained, she’s able to do everything on her own. It’s a letdown. What should I do with this advanced skill set? Are there career options?