Our son Joey was three years old when my wife and I decided that enough was enough and two kids in diapers at once was too much and anyway, Joey would have to be toilet trained that summer if he was to go to nursery school in the fall. But toilet training was such a scary business. Many psychologists claimed that the effects of a negative training experience would leave eternal psychic scars. We had to do it right!

We discovered a little yellow book which promised to divulge the secret to painless, in fact joyful, toilet training ... IN LESS THAN A DAY. This was the method for us. I administered the "Readiness Test" (regarding Bladder Control, Physical Development, and Social Responsiveness) and even though Joey flunked part of the Bladder Control Test (i.e., he seemed unaware of bladder sensations, never appeared to know he was about to urinate, and never complained about wet diapers), we so desperately wanted him trained that I decided that even if he wasn't ready, he should be ready, and that we would proceed as planned.

And how we prepared! I bought a wetting dolly so he could teach her how to use the potty. I bought all sorts of candies and chips (rewards) and sodas and juices (more rewards, but with an additional purpose: ply him with liquid and it's got to come out the other end sooner or later -- hopefully in the potty).

This toilet training method didn't leave anything to chance, so the night before D-Day I reread the book three times, memorized the proper questions and promptings and responses, and prepared the trays of treats. The next morning, my wife took our 1-year-old daughter on a day-trip so that Joey and I could have the house to ourselves, undistracted, as the book suggested. I decided that Joey's second floor bedroom was the best place to situate the "training laboratory." I surveyed the room: potty in place; treats overflowing; promptings and questions taped to the walls to cue me if I forgot my lines. Everything was ready. We could now begin.

Joey was excited about this treat-filled day with Daddy. I had already infused him with fluids during breakfast. Now I showed him how to give water to the wetting dolly, put her on the potty, and clap enthusiastically when she "peed."

YEA DOLLY! DOLLY PEED IN THE POTTY LIKE A BIG GIRL. GIVE DOLLY A TREAT FOR GOING IN THE POTTY. SHE CAN'T EAT IT? YOU CAN EAT HER TREAT IF YOU'LL GO IN THE POTTY LIKE DOLLY DID. YOU WILL? HAVE A TREAT. (Joey was beaming -- so far so good.) NOW LET'S EMPTY THE POTTY. OOOPS! YOU SPILLED IT ALL OVER MY FEET. (Was that an omen?) ARE DOLLY'S PANTS DRY? GOOD DOLLY. TELL DOLLY HOW GOOD SHE IS TO HAVE DRY PANTS. ARE YOUR PANTS DRY? WHAT A GOOD BOY! HAVE A DRINK. ARE DOLLY'S PANTS DRY? GOOD DOLLY. ARE YOUR PANTS DRY? GOOD BOY. HAVE A TREAT.

Then, after surreptitiously wetting dolly's pants: ARE DOLLY'S PANTS STILL DRY? WHAT?? OOOH DOLLY -- BIG GIRLS DON'T WET THEIR PANTS. THAT MAKES US SO UNHAPPY. JOEY, PRACTICE PULLING DOWN DOLLY'S WET PANTS. PRACTICE PUTTING DOLLY ON THE POTTY. ARE DOLLY'S PANTS DRY? NO DOLLY, YOUR PANTS ARE WET. YUCK, WE DON'T LIKE WET PANTS, DO WE JOEY? JOEY ARE YOUR PANTS WET?GOOD BOY. FRED FLINTSTONE DOESN'T LIKE WET PANTS. HAVE A DRINK. ARE YOUR PANTS DRY? HAVE A SNACK. NOW CHANGE DOLLY'S PANTS. HAVE A DRINK. ARE DOLLY'S PANTS DRY NOW? HAVE SOME CANDY. ARE YOUR PANTS DRY? HAVE A DRINK.

Soon we phased dolly out and concentrated on Joey, who thus far was as happy as a pig in slop, what with all the junk he was getting to eat and the syrupy attention he was getting from me. The pattern with Joey was the same as it had been with dolly. Frequent "Dry-Pants Checks" followed by snacks and drinks: JOEY HAS DRY PANTS. HERE IS A DRINK FOR JOEY. JOEY HAS DRY PANTS. HERE IS A SNACK FOR JOEY. On and on until Joey had drunk two quarts of various juices and sodas and had munched on 20 different varieties of candies and chips.

Then, the first "Prompted Potty Trial." This was the big-time stuff, what we had been waiting for -- and what with all he had imbibed, Joey was surely well-primed. GO TO THE POTTY. GOOD BOY. NOW PULL DOWN YOUR PANTS. WONDERFUL. JOEY IS LIKE A BIG BOY. NOW SIT ON THE POTTY. SEE HOW GROWN UP YOU ARE. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO IN THE POTTY? THAT'S RIGHT. WHAT A BIG BOY. JUST LIKE DADDY. WON'T MOMMY BE HAPPY.

And all this time my eye is on the pot, waiting for that first tinkle. And then, just like the book said, it happened! Joey began to pee (and no small wonder) in the potty. As instructed, I enthusiastically overreacted: YEA JOEY!! WHAT A BIG BOY!! I shouted and clapped and leaped for joy. Startled, Joey stopped peeing midstream (OH NO!!). But I continued to praise him and kept him on the potty for fifteen more minutes, hoping he would urinate again. But no such luck -- not another drop.