Robin Thicke's Guide to Potty Training

Ok, now she was close, tried to domesticate you

But you're an animal, baby, it's in your nature,

Just let me liberate you

Hey, hey, hey

You don't need no diapers

Facebook Status: In a marketing move that is totally paying off, I've renamed Potty Training "Go Ahead and Pee on the Floors, I Don't Mind So Much". Other possible name include: "8 Pairs of Underpants An Hour Ain't A Thang" and "Laundry Celebration Month".

I would rather do anything else in the entire world than potty train. By the grace of God and by the skin of my teeth (you just got hit with a Cliche Bomb - BAM!) I managed to teach three little girls how to use the facilities for their *ahem* voiding, but honestly, I have no clue what I'm doing, especially when a penis is involved.*

(*Case in point - Brian was all, "The heck are you doing?" when I was teaching Ezra to "dab-dab" after peeing in the potty. "Dudes shake it off." I tentatively reached forward to show Ezra how to "shake it off" (ugh, really?) and pantomimed a movement that closely resembled ringing a church bell, further convincing both of us that the parent with the lady bits should not be the one teaching the toddler how to handle what's a-dangle.)(I totally could not help that.)(Also, in my head that rhymed more.)

I've been slacking in the potty department with the idea that the Fairy Godmother of Underpants would show up on my doorstep and magically train Ezra with a wave of her wand (because my method of crying in frustration bribing him with Lightning McQueen underwear and/or m&m's just ain't getting the job done). I also loiter hopefully around the diaper aisle in major stores waiting for a film crew to waltz up with a grandmotherly saint of a host to take over this overwhelming task, a la Kitchen Crashers on HGTV, but with Toddlers and Toilets instead. (Oh wait, that sounds too much like a different toddler show that already exists.)(But maybe not, because at the end of the day Toddlers and Toilets would be about literal crap, and Toddlers and Tiaras is about figurative crap)(ZING)(#grammarlesson)

With all this information in hand, you may wonder exactly what was the catalyst that spawned me into Must Get Ezra Potty Trained overdrive. It started with a little trip to Target ...

At a mere half mile away, we frequent Target on a (minimum) weekly basis. We have been visiting our particular store for years now, and like any family with little kids who never stop talking to anyone within earshot we meet a lot of people. We are familiar with many of the employees, especially those within certain departments *cough* dressingroom *cough*.

On our latest trek to the Land of "What I Want for My Birthday" (what, your kids don't play that game at Target?) we had only a few items on our shopping list. Namely diapers, because my kids have all had skin issues and for some reasons none of them reacted to Target brand diapers. This trip was the quickest we've ever managed to get in and out, blowing past the Dollar Spot with a speed that surprised even me. While we were in the checkout line, waiting for our favorite cashier, Esther started to sing.

One of my favorite things about Esther is that she has close to perfect pitch and can imitate entire melodies within the first two hearings. As a former voice major, this totally makes my day. However, she has also inherited my gift for language; specifically the gift of misinterpreting song lyrics on a colossal level.

Her repertoire is quite varied, but her showstopper is usually a 7-10 minute medley of the soundtrack from the Sound of Music mashed with any song included during the entire Christmas season. Lately she has thrown Alicia Keys Girl on Fire on the set list, and also Robin Thicke's Blurred Lines.

Oh? You haven't heard Blurred Lines? Then you must live under a freaking rock because it was physically impossible to escape this song if you ever left your house even once during the last few months. Here is a snippet of this masterwork bound for the classics:

Everybody get up

Everybody get up

Hey, hey, hey

Hey, hey, hey

Hey, hey, hey

If you can't hear what I'm trying to say

If you can't read from the same page

Maybe I'm going deaf,

Maybe I'm going blind

Maybe I'm out of my mind

Everybody get up

OK now he was close, tried to domesticate you

But you're an animal, baby, it's in your nature

Just let me liberate you

Hey, hey, hey

One might think, if this lyrical poetry is any indication, that this song would be doomed to flop. Also, it's horrendously exploitative. But it has become the 2013 summer anthem. Why? It is catchy as heck. It is everything awful and lovely about pop music. You cannot go anywhere without hearing this song. In fact, all you reading that are convinced you have never heard this song - you've totally heard it. Just trust me. And guess who loooooooves this song? My five year old. And since words like "domesticate" and "liberate" are a bit above her pay grade, she has done some interesting things with her interpretation of these lyrics. Usually she substitutes amazingly creative hybrid words that mean nothing but fit syllabically. But none could have prepared me for the one she thought she made up and dropped at Target.

We finally made it to the front of the line. Esther looked straight at the cashier and with her darling little smile and sweet soprano voice sang,

"Oh Baby can't you see, I'd like to master bate ya."

OH YES SHE DID.

That's when I died.

And that's why Ezra has to pee in the potty, because I can never return to Target for diapers for the rest of my natural life.