But there was no turning back. I could not prolong this first "Prompted Potty Trial" any longer. O.K. JOEY, YOU CAN STAND UP NOW. WHAT A BIG BOY. CAPTAIN KANGAROO WILL BE SO PROUD OF YOU. PULL UP YOUR PANTS. YOU ARE SUCH A BIG BOY NOW. ARE YOUR PANTS DRY? GOOD BOY. BIG BIRD LIKES DRY PANTS. HAVE A SNACK. ARE YOUR PANTS DRY? WONDERFUL. GRANDPA HAS DRY PANTS, TOO. HAVE ANOTHER DRINK.

And sure enough, as he stood there drinking, the potty only inches away, he urinated.

NO!!! I shouted as instructed, hoping to interrupt urination. "Wetting is bad!" I continued -- as did the urination. Everything liquid that had gone into Joey that morning came gushing out like Niagara Falls. Joey looked shocked. I was devastated.

Oh dear. The book said this might happen. Now I had to do the "Positive Practice": QUICKLY JOEY, NOW YOU MUST PRACTICE GOING TO THE POTTY. And Joey had to race to the potty, lower his wet pants, sit down, stand up, and raise his wet pants. This "Positive Practice" had to be performed ten times from different rooms in the house while I coached: YOU WET YOUR PANTS. YOU MUST PRACTICE. HURRY TO THE POTTY. PULL DOWN YOUR PANTS. YOU MUST PRACTICE. PRACTICE SITTING ON THE POTTY. STAND UP. PRACTICE PULLING UP YOUR PANTS. PRACTICE PRACTICE PRACTICE. PRACTICE FROM THE BEDROOM. PRACTICE FROM THE KITCHEN. HURRY. PRACTICE QUICKLY. YOU WET YOUR PANTS. YOU MUST PRACTICE GETTING TO THE POTTY IN TIME. Joey hated every minute of this "Positive Practice" and so did I. What on earth was positive about it??

Forging ahead: The next post-accident procedure was the "Wet-Pants Inspection." "Are your pants dry?" I asked. "Yes," answered my brilliant son, clutching his dripping pants. "ARE YOUR PANTS DRY?" I asked again, incredulous. "Yes," said this genius who could already read and count and name his colors. I explained patiently, "No, Joey, your pants are not dry. They are wet. Feel them. What you feel is wetness. Your pants are not dry. (What do you think we did the "Positive Practice": for?)" (Could this really be happening??) Then through gritted teeth: "Are your pants dry?" "No," he replied. (Whew! Maybe it'll work out after all.)

And then I listed the "Friends Who Cared": COOKIE MONSTER DOESN'T LIKE WET PANTS. SPIDERMAN DOESN'T LIKE WET PANTS. MOMMY LOVES YOU BUT SHE DOESN'T LOVE WET PANTS.

By this time (could it be that only 45 minutes had passed?) I could smell failure, but how could I stop after such a short session. Joey changed into dry training pants and we began again. ARE YOUR PANTS DRY? HAVE A SNACK. ARE YOUR PANTS DRY? DRINK THIS. ARE YOUR PANTS DRY? PRESIDENT NIXON LOVES DRY PANTS. DRINK THIS. DO YOU NEED TO PEE IN THE POTTY? DRINK. DRINK. DRINK.

Two more "Prompted Potty Trials" later and his pants were still as dry as the Sahara. His teeth were practically floating from all that juice, but this kid just wouldn't pee in the pot. He would, however, and indeed he did, pee in his training pants again. (AARRGH!!!) This time, as he peed, he burst into hysterical tears (in anticipation of the horrific "Positive Practice"?), rendering useless whatever control he might have been able to muster to halt urination.

Poor Joey. What he needed now was a hug, not a sharp rebuke. So I hugged him (was I rewarding him for peeing in his pants?) but not for too long. I didn't dare undermine the book's tested methodology. And besides, it was time for "Positive Practice" again.

HURRY TO THE POTTY. WETTING IS BAD. YOU MUST PRACTICE. DO IT FROM THE LIVING ROOM. QUICKLY. HURRY. PULL DOWN, HURRY, PULL UP, WHAT WOULD ERNIE AND BERT SAY, SIT DOWN, RUN, QUICKLY PRACTICE. And right in the middle of the fourth "Positive Practice," en route from the downstairs living room to the potty upstairs, a very miserable Joey peed in his already wet pants for the third time. And he began to sob again.

As I watched the puddle of urine soak into the burgundy plush sculpted carpet on the hall stairs, as I saw these best laid plans go down the drain, I decided that nothing was worth this ordeal. Joey could wear diapers until he was 30 if he wanted, but no more "Positive Practice." This training session had to terminate immediately.

And so it did. With Joey in a dry diaper, we went to McDonald's for lunch and I tried to atone for whatever cruelties I had inflicted on my son for 2 1/2 hours. And what emotional scars would remain? Would all of his future problems be related to this disastrous morning? Oh dear.

Two weeks later, Joey trained himself.