Difficult to post when Tony Blair the butcher of Iraq is getting his grubby fingers on the genocide in Palestine but I thought I’d give it a try.
It is potty training for grandson time now. Last week we were given this potty to use when Jonas stayed overnight. We have an open top cabriolet grey one to use but the green one seemed more interesting and inviting.
We were doing so well with the wee wee. Jonas interrupted our game of football to empty his bladder in the open top one but then we thought we should get the other one ready to tempt him to use it for the evacuation of his intestines. Isn’t it prissy of me to dance around the use of four letter words when as I speak grandchildren are being mown to pieces during a peace process? I am sure I am not alone in thinking about this whilst I play with my grandchildren. Sorry to intrude on your equanimity.
We got the potty out. It has a knob on the narrow end. You turn and lift the lid. Simple eh?
Well I turned the knob the lid would not open. I tried several times and missed sending the odd photo to his parents over whatsapp to tell them how we are doing. Which is why dad called the house because mum was wondering when she hadn’t heard anything from me. We had been busy with our games as well I said but as we finished the call we asked how to open the blinking potty. Was it some test of our competence or intelligence?
No, but it could be something to do with the flight back from holiday on the aeroplane, suggested daddy James.
Had a vacuum formed in the potty?
Thus ensued my attempts to get the thing open. I left it out in the sun to expand whatever gas was left in it. No show. I emptied the water butt into a large bucket. Submerged the potty. Funny, bubbles came out which went against the vacuum hypothesis. Tugged. No show. It reminded me of an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm. I didn’t want to look up an answer on the internet so to grannie Mau’s bemusement I pressed on whilst she watched the news. Jonas was having a nap. I rubbed WD40 on. Resubmerged. No show. Back in the utility room, dripping water all over the floor to daggers in Mau’s eyes I washed the closure line with soap. More tugs. Nothing, about a millimetre of give. I was not going to surrender and summoned the help of Olokun Yoruba god of the oceans. More soap, more submerging. More tugs. It squelched open. Another miracle for the Holy Book I am writing.
Delighted, with my sense of accomplishment I showed it to Jonas when he woke up.
Not interested.
