Best Seat In The House
"Now, Gel," Les began gently. "I've told you before that the potty is nothing to be afraid of."
"It's not?" Gellert didn't sound as though he believed her. "Den where does the doodie go if da potty monster doesn't eat it?"
The dementor sighed. "Who told you that the potty monster eats it, Gel?"
"Hawwy," the toddler replied. "Last time we was at daycare, mommy. He said the potty is a monster dat only wanna eat your doodie and peepee."
"Yes, well, Harry says a lot of things, dear. But that doesn't mean everything he says is true. Besides, learning to use the potty means that you can take your pants off. And I know how much you like to remove your clothes."
Gellert stuck his finger in his mouth, sucking on it while taking a moment to think. "Huh-uh." He shook his head. "I don't wanna use da potty!"
Barty stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning with his back against the doorframe. "You know, we could always try doing what my father did when I was potty training."
The fabric over Les' face rippled as she inhaled sharply, incensed by the mention of Barty's father. "Barty, your father was a horrible man. Why should we bother doing anything his way?"
"Because it was just about the only good thing he ever did for me. All we gotta do is fill him full of pumpkin juice, wait a bit, then turn the tap on. He'll be running to the bathroom in no time."
Les tilted her head to the side, frowning beneath her ragged hood. "I'm not comfortable with that, Barty. He might have an accident on the carpet."
"Can't I just use the litter box, mommy?" Gellert asked.
"No, Gel, you're a big boy now. Not a little kitten," Les reminded him. "That means you need to use the potty like big boys do."
"Humph!" Gellert plopped down on the bathroom floor and pouted.
It wasn't fair. Modesty's cat got to use the litter box, so why couldn't he use it too? Why did he have to be a big boy anyway? Why couldn't he be a little kitty? Goodness knows he certainly looked like one, and he liked it when his best friend Albie stroked his hair and called him a soft kitty.
Sometimes his parents made him so mad he wanted to run away and live with Albie. Then he could play soft kitty all day long, and he would never have to listen to his parents telling him that he had to wear pants or use the potty.
Gellert sat on the floor, staging a silent protest until his mother took him by the hand and led him out of the bathroom. Clearly he wasn't ready to use the potty. Even if Les made him drink a gallon of pumpkin juice, it still wouldn't work. He'd whiz in his toy box if he had to. Because anything was better than sitting on the potty.
And then it dawned on him. He couldn't actually sit on the potty. Not unless he had to make poopies. That, too, irked him to no end.
"It's not fair!" he howled, his mother practically dragging him out of the bathroom. "Mawddatee gets to sit and I no sitted down to make tinkle! Why can't I sits?"
Les' shoulders sunk, her hooded form giving Barty a look that begged him to save her from this child.
Barty raised an eyebrow. "Mawddatee?" he echoed, a hint of amusement in his tone.
"I think he means Modesty." Les sighed heavily, their son dangerously close to throwing an Alecto style tantrum. "Maybe you should explain this to him. You do have the same anatomy and everything."
Her husband groaned, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.
.oOo.
The next morning Barty was in the bathroom getting ready for work when the door swung upon, his son standing in the doorway. Gellert was still furious over what had happened yesterday, and when he noticed the bathroom door was ajar, he saw this as an opportunity to launch a formal protest.
"Gellert, is everything alright?" Barty asked, watching his son stomp over to the toilet.
Down went the little boy's pants, off flew the diaper which he slung in his father's face, and before Barty had a chance to speak the toddler was climbing up onto the toilet.
The Death Eater stood there with his mouth agape, diaper in hand, wondering what his son was up to. Was it possible that Gellert was going to use the toilet all by himself? Or was that too much to hope for?
He watched the little boy plant his feet on either side of the toilet seat, his bare bottom in the air, squatting over the toilet.
"This is as close as me's getting to standing up to pee!" Grindelwald announced, when suddenly he slipped and fell in the toilet.
Bluish water splashed onto the floor, covering the linoleum in droplets and puddles. The boy's father rushed towards him when Gellert started to fall, thinking he would catch the boy before something happened to him. But instead he ended up slipping and sliding in the toilet water.
In an effort to prevent himself from falling, Barty seized the shower curtain, his arms flailing, grasping at anything that was within reach. This resulted in a loud crash, the fabric tearing as the curtain was pulled down, landing gracefully on the father and son duo.
This was the scene when Les entered the bathroom, her son crammed in the toilet, her husband trying to disentangle himself from the torn shower curtain.
"Mommy!" Gellert cried, twisting and wriggling in the toilet. "Mommy, help! The potty monster is trying to eat me!"
And for one brief moment Les wished the potty monster would eat her too.