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.