Max was three years old, and he had a green stuffed dinosaur named Rocky. Rocky had orange spikes and a smile with two little felt teeth.
One morning, Mom came home with a blue potty. “Look, Max. It's for you, for when you're ready to stop wearing diapers.” Max looked at it from the doorway, frowning.
He crept a little closer and touched it with the tip of his finger. “It's cold!” he said. “I don't like it.” And he ran off to the living room, with Rocky under his arm.
That afternoon, Dad put the potty in the bathroom, next to the tub. “It'll stay right here, in case you ever feel like it,” he said, with no hurry. Every time Max walked past, he gave it a sideways look.
It was small, round and blue, like a little boat. Before bath time, Max had an idea. He sat Rocky on the potty, nice and straight.
“Is it cold, Rocky?” he asked. Rocky didn't answer, but Max thought he was shaking a little. “Rocky's scared,” he told Dad.
“Oh dear,” said Dad. “So what can we do?” Max thought for a moment, with his hand on his chin. “I'll show him how. Then he'll see it's okay.”
Dad helped him with his pants, and Max sat down on the potty. It was a little cold, yes. But only a tiny bit. Rocky watched him from the bath mat, paying close attention.
Max hummed the little duck song, so Rocky wouldn't get bored. And then came a sound: tinkle, tinkle, tinkle. Max's eyes went wide. “Pee! I peed in the potty!”
Dad clapped, and Mom came running from the kitchen. “Did you see that, Rocky?” Max shouted. “It's okay!” And he danced all around the bathroom, holding Rocky by the tail.
After his bath, in his rocket pajamas, he climbed into bed. “Tomorrow it's your turn, Rocky,” he whispered. “You were a great teacher today,” said Mom, and gave him a kiss.
Max yawned with his mouth wide open, like a dinosaur. He hugged Rocky and closed his eyes. And he dreamed of a blue boat sailing slowly down a river of stars.
Goodnight, Max…
