Author's Note: I don't have the usual disclaimers because, well,
everything I write is factual. I share stories that I think may
interest the ASSTR community. I work in child and youth mental
health, often trying to repair damage done by people who, in my
opinion, have forfeited their right to live. With that in mind,
on with the story. You may perceive this as "boring", but it's my
first posting and I didn't want to scar everyone with the really
rough stuff first off. Why post these here? This is about the
only place on the 'Net I (probably) won't be instantly banned
from.

I was working my usual shift at the Child and Youth Mental Health
Centre, today I had been stationed at the front desk, the first
line of defence against whatever shitstorm is coming through the
door. My co-worker, Candice, was working alongside me. The
general layout of the room is as such: the reception desk is up
near the front, in line with the door. Various toys, books, and
games for all ages litter the floor. We do our best to keep it
tidy but it's constantly being messed up. Seating for adults and
children lines the two walls opposite the reception desk. The
wall behind the desk has four doors: a boys'/men's room,
girls'/women's room, a disabled washroom, and a door to access
the rest of the Centre. Two potty chairs, a
toddler/preschooler-sized toilet, and a toddler/small child
urinal are tucked discreetly behind dividing walls, which are
marked very clearly. There are also a couple of potted plants,
some cutesy artwork and wall murals, and a stereo constantly
cranking nauseating kids' music.

A woman comes in, pushing a stroller. I invite her to take a
seat, offer her water, coffee, or tea, and bring the necessary
forms for her to fill out. I look in the stroller to say hi, and
a very cute little boy looks out at me.

"Hi," he said.
"Hi, I'm Mikey." I said. My name is Micheal, but that's hard to
say for some of the kids, so at work I'm Mikey.
His mother said, "This is little Matteo. I'm here for my other
child, this one's a bit young for your programs. My name is
Barbara."
"You'd be surprised at the many ways we can adapt our programs
for our clients," I said, "our youngest patient is eighteen
months old."
"Little Matteo here just turned two. I just started potty
training him!"
"Is that so? Good for you, Matteo!"
At that point, Candice came over so I went back to the desk. I
started in with the paperwork and filing nobody else seems to
like to do, which I don't mind because I like it.

"Mikey?" Candice said.
"Yes?"
"Can you watch Matteo for a few minutes?"
"Sure, no problem."
Barbara said, "I think he's about ready for potty time, if you
could take him if he needs to go, that would be great. Maybe you
can show him how big boys go pee-pee?"
"Certainly, Barbara." I walked over to the little guy as Barbara
was lifting him out of the stroller. "Hey, little guy, what do
you want to do?"
"Read book?"
"Read a book? That's a great idea!"
Barbara spoke again, "oh, Mikey, if he doesn't quite make it to
the potty, there are extra training pants under the stroller."
"Thank you, Barbara."
"Matteo, you have fun with Mikey. I'll see you in a little bit,
okay sweetheart?"
"Kay."

"Here, Matteo, I got a book to read."
"Kay! Read here?"
"Sure! This one's called 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar'." A staple
of childhood reading and counting. I read to him for a couple
minutes, he liked the pictures, and he could count pretty high
for his age. Suddenly, his hand moved down  to his crotch, and he
started wriggling like a caterpillar.
"Okay, Matteo, I think it's potty time!" Matteo just nodded, and
looked around, clearly worried.
"Where poddy?"
"Don't worry, they're right here. Do you want to sit down, or try
to pee standing up?"
"I stand?"
"Yep, I'll show you. Come here." I guided him to the potty area,
through the dividers to the urinal.
"Stand on the footprints, and I'll get your pants, okay?" I
reached up for a pair of blue nitrile gloves and put them on.
"Kay." Matteo put his feet on each footprint. I moved behind him,
kneeling so I could work on his pants. Since he was in training
pants, I decided to take both his pants and training pants down
to his knees.
"Okay, you need to grab your pee-pee like this," I said. "Good,
now just relax, and go pee-pee. I'll help you aim."
After a few seconds, Matteo released a good amount of golden
fluid, and judging by the look of relief on his face, I'd say
he'd really needed to go. His pee tinkled musically against the
porcelain, all the way down to his feet. After about twenty
seconds, his flow slowed down to a trickle, then just a few
drops. Little kids can't hold much, like everything else capacity
comes with practice.
"Okay Matteo, now I want you to push the rest of your pee-pee
out. Just listen to me, please. You know how to hold your pee-pee
in?"
"Yea!"
"I want you to pretend you need to hold your pee-pee in, okay?"
"Kay." Matteo squeezed with all his might, and was surprised by a
new trickle of pee-pee.
"Okay, let go, and do it again!"
"Kay." Matteo released his hold, and squeezed tight again. More
pee-pee came out.
"Okay, again?"
Matteo kept squeezing and releasing until his bladder and urethra
were truly empty.
"Great job!" I gently tapped the last drops of golden liquid from
the end of his pee-pee.
I noticed he was still a bit antsy, so I asked, "Matteo, do you
need to poo-poo?"
Matteo thought for a second, then nodded. "Yea."
"Okay, do you want to go on the potty chair, or the toilet?"
"Uhm, poddy!"
"Okay, lemme just pick you up," I picked up his little body and
carried him to a waiting potty chair. I set his bare bum on the
seat and pulled his pants down to his ankles. "Okay, Matteo,
poo-poo."
Matteo sat and grunted for a minute, two minutes, three minutes .
. . maybe Matteo didn't need to poo-poo. I was about ready to
give up and let him try again later when it happened. One poo-poo
hit the potty bowl, followed by another. After some more grunting
and straining, a third little poo-poo joined the others.
"I'm aww done."
"Great job, Matteo. Do you want to try wiping yourself?"
"Kay."
"Now, what you want to do, is take one of these wipes, and use it
to clean yourself. Let me see what you're doing." Matteo was
doing a pretty good job for his age. "Good job, drop that one
into the potty and let me get the last part, it's a bit tricky."
I quickly wiped his bottom sparkling clean with a new wet wipe,
and dropped that one into the bowl too. "You're all done, buddy.
Stand up and I'll help you get your pants back up."
"Kay." He stood up, and I quickly and gently pulled up his
training pants, making sure his pee-pee was pointing downwards
(up or on either side is very bad, as you can imagine). I had to
take a little more time over his pants, clearly they hadn't been
designed for the extra thickness of training pants. I removed the
bowl from the potty chair, and set it inside a wall hatch, where
it would be taken to be cleaned and disinfected for next time.
Another wall hatch supplied a new bowl, and I dropped it into
place.

I led Matteo out of the potty area and we finished the storybook.
Two drinks, a snack, four more stories, lots of toys, games, and
cuddles, and two hours later (few minutes my eye), I noticed him
grabbing at himself again. "Potty time," I said. He jumped up and
ran to the potty area, with me following. This time he turned and
stood in front of a potty chair. I quickly snapped on gloves,
unsnapped his pants and snaked his pants and training pants to
his ankles before helping him sit down. I made sure his little
tool was pointing down into the bowl, and said "go pee-pee
Matteo." After a few seconds I heard the tell-tale patter of
pee-pee going into the potty. He shuddered as he peed, a clear
sign that he really had to go bad. I smiled at him, and said
"good job, little buddy". The patter steadily grew into a trickle
as his water filled the bowl. He finished his pee-pee and started
to stand up. "Wait, Matteo, you aren't done yet remember? Squeeze
out the rest of your pee-pee like I showed you." He sat back
down, and I heard three squirts hit the water already in the
bowl. "Great job, Matteo. Now you can stand up. He stood up, and
as before I pulled up his training pants and pants, switched the
potty bowls, removed my gloves, and brought him back to the
waiting room. Candice was waiting there.

"Mikey, Barbara and Matteo will be staying a bit longer than
planned, so I've been asked to take Matteo to the nursery. Will
you be fine up here the rest of today by yourself?"
"Yes, Candice, go ahead." I'd just spent the last two hours on my
own with the kid, I can handle an empty office (though it isn't
as fun). "He's just pottied so he should be okay for about two
hours." I handed her my sheaf of notes.
"Thank you, Mikey. Say 'bye' Matteo."
"Bye," said Matteo, a little dejectedly.