We hear the music, we smell the smells. Ahh. We love Epcot. First things first, the potty. The Jiggler (my ass) has a little problem with some Disney potties. You see, I rarely potty alone. I've mastered the two and three person potty trip. Of course, we all cram into one stall This potty trip it's just me and my daughter. Girlchild and I make our way in. I back The Jiggler in [beep, beep, beep] and drag her in behind me. I straddle the toilet and try to close the door. She was at the stage in her development where her head was just high enough to bang into the toilet tissue dispensers. I usually wound up cramming her head between the stall door and the dispenser, pinball style, a couple of times per trip.
Big green eyes would stare up at me in disbelief that she has to deal with a mom who has no concept of spatial relations. After we were safely locked in, I rotated the Jigger around to get the Jiggler protector (the toilet guard tissue). I carefully pluck just one (wouldn’t want to be wasteful). Gently and daintily I lay the Jiggler protector down. The toilet is competitive, just like the spider at the car wash. The toilet feels I shouldn't be a wimp and I should just lay the bare Jiggler down. “Toughen up” the toilet thinks and then it sucks my Jiggler protector down with enough force to render me nude if I were standing closer. Girlchild screams and holds her ears.
“The flush is too loud,” she wails.
In a frenzy to find a safe harbor, she winds up bouncing between the Jiggler and the stall door. "Well," I think, "I'll try this again. Because I like to win. I want to beat the potty at its own game." I lay the protector down, nicey nice, and the middle falls in, sets off the super sensitive sensor and… sonic boom flush. Girlchild is now a little leery of sitting on this insatiable monster that eats the Jiggler protectors so ferociously. What will it do with her teeny, tiny hiney? I'm totally unaware of my daughter’s concerns. It's me verses the potty. I break out the ultimate weapon.
The bare Jiggler.
If I can move fast enough, I can hold that protector in place. I'll anchor it down and show that potty who's boss. The potty has had a lot of practice. I moved as quick as lightening. Place the protector, swing the Jiggler around, knock into girlchild, who bounces into the toilet tissue dispenser… again. I'm almost there; the bare Jiggler will be safe from all the germs of the 100 gazillion women that have done their business before me. I hear a high pitched whine I'm not fast enough. My plan will not work. The potty sucks down its favorite treat, for a third time. The Jiggler's not a fast enough anchor…To add insult to my bruised ego and germs to the germs I now get to wear, like a nasty accessory all day long, I get the the “finishing touch." That splash of ice cold potty water.
“Aggh!” I let out a little scream.
Big green eyes are watching this whole show. Hands covering ears. In her sweet little head, that potty just took a bite of the Jiggler and Mommy was getting sucked down next. She waits. Now, it's her turn. She bangs her head one more time against the t.p. dispenser in a futile effort to render herself unconscious and avoid being sucked down by the Jiggler protector eating, sonic booming, auto-flushing potty. She's unsuccessful and she's up next. I did what all good moms do. I bribed her. With toys, treats and ponies.
She's still not crazy about loud flushes.