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Dad Diary

 My college roommate wrote a picture book called "How to Train Your Porcupine." It's a brilliant idea; a family can keep a pet porcupine only if the little critter learns to pee in a potty. His quills puncture a diaper; taming the quills with curlers just means that he will roll right off the porcelain throne, like a beach ball rolling down a slide.


The kids set down newspapers as a kind of "pee zone," but the porcupine becomes distracted by the crossword puzzle.

I feel deep empathy for my son, who is just not quite ready to pee in the potty. The "tips" I've collected have been unintentionally amusing. Assure him that the pee is something disposable; he isn't shedding a precious part of his body. Hold a diaper open, just above his knees, so he can see his own pee exiting his body and making a "soft landing" on the fabric. Read a story about freaky, talking underpants; the story will encourage your son to express his feelings in a therapeutic way.

All of this makes me think of my shrink's advice to me. Enroll in a graduate program. Write a book. Decide on a novel or a memoir. Make a list of chapters. Find a group of writers. Do not accept more tutoring clients. Try a pseudonym. Go out and shop for Edmund White memoirs, and then write. The advice seems sensible--seems like a fine answer to the present situation, which can be claustrophobic and tedious. But I just get agitated, and nothing changes.

I expect other people *not* to show off the kind of inner chaos that I myself feel; other people must have coherent motives, and must be able to explain themselves in a succinct way at all times. So it startles me when my son cycles through five or six self-contradictory "responses" to underwear--makes the full cycle in a matter of minutes. "I want the diaper." "I want the undies." "I don't like the undies." "I want to use the potty." "I'm scared." He makes me think of Norma Desmond, in the climactic minutes of "Sunset Boulevard." I don't know why I'm frightened! Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my closeup....Stop! I can't go on....I'm too happy....

Meanwhile, the potty remains untouched. A blank page or canvas. Humming along, taunting everyone. Ready for action. Waiting, waiting.
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