Here’s a couple things in life that I just don’t understand. Actually, there are many things in life that I don’t understand. Maybe in your commentary after reading this you can share with me what you’ve learned here today. Hopefully you do learn something, or maybe you’ll be able to help me out.

Why is it that after you sit on the toilet and take a dump, before you flush, you always have to look at the turds? I mean really?!! Why do we always look at the turds? What do we expect to see? A $100 bill? Lottery tickets? What??!! I’ve been doing that “looking at my turds before I flush” stuff since I was potty trained, and I don’t understand why.

I mean, when I was a kid, it was cool to look at them and try and see the stuff I ate. You know, like pieces of corn and stuff like that. But I had no idea that at 38yrs old, I’d still be doing it, and doing it unconsciously. And don’t gimme that “RiPPa you’re just weird” stuff either. I know just as well as you do, that you look at your turds before you flush. Now I could understand looking at your turds after having to put teeth marks into your toilet bowl in an attempt to force out a log or two. But after every dump? And speaking of turds and dumps, I think I am about to face my biggest challenge as a parent thus far: POTTY TRAINING. Yup, my wife recently bought a new potty for our now 15 month old. The damn thing even talks to you when you flush! When did they start making stuff like that?!!

Honestly, I’m scared and nervous about this whole thing. Why am I nervous? Well, as anxious as I am to teach her about life and stuff, I’m just not the same about the whole using the potty thing. The reason why? I don’t remember being potty trained. I could remember some stuff from my formative years; hell I still remember learning Spanish from Sesame Street. But the thing that bugs me is that I don’t remember being potty trained, and as a result, I’m afraid that I might fail with my daughter. When you think of it, that’s a lot of pressure as a parent. Nobody wants to have to be the parent of that stanky booty little boy or girl, when they’re in pre-school or kindergarten.

The last thing you want is a bunch of other people’s kids running up to you telling you that your child shit on himself/herself when you show up to pick him up for the day. I mean, its bad enough that the teacher has to explain why your kid is wearing that ugly ass pair of shorts that doesn’t even match, or look anything like what you dressed him in for school that day. Yup, that’s bad enough, and then you have to act all nice to your kid and make him feel like it was just an accident so as not to traumatize him/her with the thought of him/her being a failure, for being the stinky booty kid. Trust me, nobody wants to be known as the stinky booty kid.

Matter of fact, I’m sure that most violent crimes in our country are commited by one time stinky booty kids. Usually we hear stories or explanations for criminal behavior being chalked up to a bad childhood. We hear about dysfunctional families, abusive situations involving children, poverty, absent fathers etc. But we never hear about the stinky booty kid, and how he or she was teased in school. And I’m sure everybody remembers that one kid who smelled like pee everyday. See what I’m saying? Where are those kids now? Hopefully most of them are probably in prison after having been caught. But there are many of them who are still running around right now free as a bird; free to wreak havoc on the lives of many. Hell some of them are probably even blogging and you don’t even know it. Next time somebody shoots up their place of employment, hopefully you’ll rememebr this blog.

So you see, this is why I’m nervous about my daughter. I don’t want her to grow up to be that stanky booty girl like her father once was. If she does, it would mean that as a parent I failed. Never mind my occasional shit stain as an adult. The ultimate failure as an adult is being the parent of a stank booty child. A child who has to continue that vicious cycle of shame and degradation. Which is really sad when you think of how much easier it could be if they just learned how to wipe their ass without having to be taught by another person. You know, kinda like how learning to walk was natural?

Hopefully my baby girl gets it down really quickly. Hopefully my wife never had the problems I had growing up and would serve to be a better teacher than I could ever be. Hopefully my baby girl is content to not look back at her turds when she gets off the potty or even try and pick them up. I don’t remember being potty trained as I mentioned before. But I vaguely remember getting a beating for picking up my turd after sitting on a cold white metal bowl one time.

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RiPPa is the creator, publisher, and editor-in-chief of The Intersection of Madness & Reality. As a writer, he uses his sense of humor, sarcasm, and sardonic negro wit to convey his opinion. Being the habitual line-stepper and fire-breathing liberal-progressive, whether others agree with him, isn’t his concern. He loves fried chicken, watermelon, and President Barack Obama. Yes, he's Black; yes, he's proud; and yes, he says it loud. As such, he's often misunderstood.