7 years ago my sister fell in love with a little fur ball and named him Smegil. The drama began immediately when she brought him home and he refused to walk on a leash, eat or potty train.
She called me in tears one day and yelled, "I let the little butthead, (not the real word she used), outside for half an hour! He wouldn't go to the bathroom so I let him back in the house, then he just looked at me and whizzed all over my carpet!"
I then proceeded to laugh until I hurt.
7 years later, I put my little boy on his fancy, singing potty. He sat there. I read books to him. He sat there some more. We sang songs. He sat there. We practiced colors. He announced, "All done." In fact, he had done nothing in his potty.
He stood up, looked me straight in the eye, and peed on me and my carpet.
The best part? I was on the phone with my sister when he did it. I have tasted my own medicine and it is bitter.
The Potty Protesters