gag me with a trout

This morning Andy got up and I got him ready for school. We're still having potty trouble most of the time. It's not that Andy can't go on the potty. He has proven many times that he has full control of the required muscles and knows exactly what to do and when to do it. He just plain doesn't want to, and I think it's because I do want him to. One little way he can have control over me.

It sucks.

One of my little potty trick tools is Potty Trout. Potty Trout is a 12-inch stuffed rainbow trout that Uncle Davey brought back for Andy from some gift shop in the west. When Andy was actually having genuine difficulty on the potty (as opposed to the current power struggle) I'd go fetch the fish and call him 'Potty Trout'. Andy would hold Potty Trout and talk to Potty Trout while he sat on the potty and tried to make progress. And often Potty Trout's presence helped a lot. So Potty Trout started spending an inordinate amount of time in the loo.

This morning Potty Trout made an appearance at the breakfast table before school. Andy brought him downstairs and set him on the table while he ate. I'm no dummy; I know what germs are probably lurking on a stuffed animal that regularly gets taken into the bathroom and tossed on the floor beside a peeing toddler. But it's a kitchen table and I have Clorox wipes. No need to completely freak out. If Potty Trout is Andy's buddy, more power to him.

I poured myself some coffee, set it on the table and went downstairs to let Nugget out of her box and out to pee. When I came back up, half of my coffee was gone and it was splattered all over the table. I asked Andy what had happened and he just held up Potty Trout, who's head was now a warm shade of mocha and he smelled like Amaretto.

I said, "Andy, did you dip Potty Trout into my coffee cup while I was downstairs?"

He said, "Yes."

He dipped his toilet fish into my coffee.