Surpassed By An Infant

Big discovery yesterday. Even bigger humility. My favorite Golden girl has made her mark. Literally. In her mother Doris’s (aka Sirod’s) old yogurt container. Organic, too, I bet. Golden, at almost two months old, can control her bowel movements better than I can. Yes, ladies and gents, she deserves a trophy. Some kind of gold toilet bowl, or even better, a gold mithril diaper. 

While Golden can poo into a cup, I have literally pooed almost in someone’s front yard, giving any drivers by a premium vista of my scandalous act. That particular day, I could not make it home in time - home, which at the time was a heavenly image of rows and rows of toilets calling my name like sunbathing lawnchairs at a tropical resort. 

At another “incident” I became too immersed in a similar fantasy, dreaming in the land of toilets, and then reality plunged upon me and I realized that I had soiled my “adult diaper,” i.e., my running shorts. 

So perhaps it is time that I receive new potty training methods. Maybe Sirod will train me. Heehee.