THE INVISIBLE HAND

Dear Spike:

I'm not above deal-making.

Some folks might call it bribery. I prefer "free market education." You've got a certain supply of good behavior. I have a high demand for this product. The invisible hand takes it from there.

But lately, I've been thinking we might just need a little more regulation. Someone is manipulating the markets.

In general, your biggest incentive for using the potty is that you need to go. And so I don't usually have to offer anything more than a congratulatory "hip hip, hooray!" for you to do what you need to do.

But when we're in a rush to get somewhere — and I know you need to "go before you go." The market takes over. Lollypops get involved. Sweet, sweet capitalism.

That was the case yesterday, when I needed to get you off to the babysitter so that I could make an afternoon appointment. I stripped off your bottoms, sat you on your little potty, and waited for the action to begin.

No deal.

"Lolly?" I asked.

"Lolly!" you said, and held out your hand.

"You need to pee first," I said.

Generally, this is all that it would take to induce a tinkle. But you just didn't have to go. And this obviously was causing a crisis in the market. Now I had the supply. You had the demand. But you just didn't have the capital you needed to complete the transaction.

And so what did you do?

You lied.

"Hip hip hooray!" you squealed, still sitting on the pot. "Hip hip hooray!"

"Did you go?" I asked.

"Hip hip hooray! Tinkle! Tinkle!" you answered.

I handed you the lolly and you popped it into your mouth, still sitting on the potty.

I turned to go and invited you to come, but your little butt remained firmly planted in its seat. It was only then that I realized I'd been taken in an elaborate Ponzi scheme.

I think there's grounds for some sort of federal investigation, but given the fed's record, of late, I guessing you're probably safe for now.

Love,
dad

A BIG KID

Dear Spike:

You took a big step toward being a big kid today.

Two steps, actually — first the right one and then the left one...

... into a pair of skivvies.

Sure, someday you're going to score the championship-winning goal in the World Cup, win the Nobel Prize for peace and science (in the same year,) and solve the Rubik's cube in under 7.08 seconds.

But today, I can't imagine ever being prouder.

Love,

dad 

   

FINE AND DANDY

Dear Spike:

Three things about you...

1) Suddenly, you're terrified of the toilet. Oh, you're just fine and dandy about doing your business in the backyard, in the park or in a parking lot, but the big white pot makes you scream.

2) You were playing with your Noah's Ark set. I was perusing the U.S. State Department's Website. At one point, you trotted over, glanced up at the screen and said, "peacock." "No," I said. "There's no peacock there." "Peacock! Peacock! Peacock!" You cried, pointing at the screen. I looked again and laughed. "Yes," I said. "The Statue of Liberty does look a bit like a peacock."

3) You're teething again. Molars. Sometimes you grab the side of your mouth and cry: "Teeth! Teeth! Teeth!" It is perhaps one of the saddest things I've ever seen.

Love,
dad

THE MOST PART

Dear Spike:

I sang to you softly and rocked you slowly. And you curled up in your blanket — the one with the soft fringe on the end — and began to nod off.

And then you peed on me.

Lots.

And then you laughed.

Lots.

For the most part, you've got the potty thing down. Every week, it seems, your accidents are fewer and further between. I can count the diapers I've changed in the past month on one hand.

But occasionally, you find a nice, warm way to remind your mother and I that you're still a baby.

And we love you just the same.

Love,
dad

NO JOE HILL

Dear Spike:

A potty strike?

I'm a big supporter of labor. Big.

But you're no Joe Hill.

Love,
dad