About ten or so years ago, I walked into my bathroom only to find my cat standing on the toilet using his paws to unroll the entire roll of toilet paper. If I were a fan of America’s Funniest Home videos, I’d probably still be laughing. But alas, I can only laugh so many times at a man getting smacked in the balls, so I’m not.
Who knew toilet paper would come back again to haunt me one day. Ahhh, potty training. Every day I face the battle of teaching Zoey how to use toilet paper. I know perforated tissue seems like a simple concept, but you’d be surprised. Exhibit A, my pantsless daughter running around the house holding a flowing roll of toilet paper above her head pretending it’s a kite. Seriously? I bought her a real kite with Disney princesses all over it, and she’d prefer Charmin Ultra Soft?
And then there’s the actual act of wiping. Someone asked me recently whether I’m teaching her to wipe front to back and I think diet coke shot out of my nose I laughed so hard. While I would love to teach her the proper direction to wipe, right now it’s all I can do to keep her from dipping the tp in the pee-pee and then dripping it all over her legs and the floor. 409’s stock has gone up since we started training, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence.
Anyway, I’d like to think toilet paper won’t be an issue for much longer, but I’m not too optimistic. Yesterday a friend told me that she just discovered her four-year-old son recently stopped wiping when he poops. Uhh, what exactly did she discover? It’s times like these that I really need an emoticon for upchucking. Apparently he didn’t know how many toilet paper squares to use. I’ll tell you kiddo, zero is not the correct answer.
My friend told him five squares. And then she said, if that’s not enough, use five more. My first thought was, ennnhhhh, wrong. All poops are not created equal and you must surmise the poop to calculate the correct number of squares. But then I realized he’s four and he wants an answer. Not a mathematic equation to come up with the correct number of squares.
TP = AC2
In case you’re wondering, toilet paper equals amount times consistency squared. So I guess she was right, five seems like a good place to start. I’ll try to remember that for later down the road when Zoey’s ready to wipe on her own. For now I’m just happy she stopped sticking her tongue through the empty tube. Where’s that emoticon when you need it? Now if only I could stop my husband from trying to get the camera every time she goes #2. No honey, for the umpteenth time, I have no idea how something that big came out of something so little.