TMNT belong to Mirage. But once my plans to rule the world are finalized...

A "Wee" Tale

Splinter sat on the floor of the dojo, pretending to meditate but in reality supervising the supposed meditation of his sons. As he glanced from face to face, he was sure of one thing- that only one of them was truly meditating.

Raphael, no doubt, was going over in his mind the things he would soon be doing with Casey. The two of them were going to keep an eye on April's shop while she was gone for the weekend, and that was their perfect excuse to act like-

Splinter drew in a calming breath. His son was old enough to look out after himself, and though Splinter was still unsure about the relationship between the two, he recognized that his son needed companionship outside of his family.

Michelangelo was almost assuredly meditating on making a pizza for dinner, followed by an all-night movie marathon. Splinter knew that if he, himself, wished anything to eat, he had better help out and at least make a salad. Pizza he could eat, and Michelangelo was an excellent cook, but sometimes he was a bit too creative in his choice of toppings.

Donatello- that was the easiest of all. He was pretty much consumed in a secret project with Leatherhead and Professor Honeycutt, and it would take all of Splinter's parental authority to insist that he eat dinner first before he vanished for the weekend. No one was allowed near the invention site, and even Michelangelo had not been able to discover this deep secret. Splinter knew that if he insisted, Donatello would show him, but he decided to let his son have his privacy in this matter.

Leonardo- Splinter was pretty sure that this one was meditating in the true sense of the word, and not merely going over plans for the evening or, indeed, the weekend. Of the four, he had been the first to master himself in this aspect.

Indeed, Leonardo was first at a lot of things, and this led to constant friction. Tonight, for example, Splinter knew what the first words out of Raphael's mouth were going to be once he released them from meditation to discuss the lesson.

Firsts. So many firsts. Raphael- indeed, all of them, tended to forget or not even know who was first to do certain things, to master certain moves. He knew and treasured each and every first of all four sons, hoarding them in his memory like a miser with gold.

Firsts.

"Very well, my sons," he heard himself saying. "Let us briefly discuss the session, and then you are free to leave."

"What's to discuss?" Raphael, true to Splinter's prediction, responded. "Perfect Leo has once again come in first-"

"Raph, if you'd spend as much time practicing as you do complaining-" Leo automatically responded.

"Leo, even if we were able to practice twice as much as you, you would still find a way to come in first," Donatello chimed in, tired of this argument and yet also harboring a bit of a "first envy".

"Well, he wasn't first at the Battle Nexus," Michelangelo started to brag, when three hands immediately popped his head in succession. "OW! OW! OW! Hey... it's not my fault that I won twice!"

"My sons, you are consumed with this business," Splinter interrupted. "Perhaps a story is in order..."

Four sons now sighed noisily. Not another story!

"No offense, Sensei, but those little 'tales' you tell us that have some deep and meaningful lesson to impart are really just boring," Michelangelo, feeling daring, spoke out. "And besides, how many times do we have to hear 'The Tortoise and the Hare'?"

Splinter glared at his son, and Michelangelo reacted as if his father had smacked him on the head with his hand.

"As I was saying," he continued, a definite edge to his voice, "perhaps a story is in order."

Donatello looked at the clock without seeming to. He knew that if Splinter caught him checking the time, he'd have them do more meditation for at least thirty more minutes. But he was anxious to get to Leatherhead's place! They were close to finishing-

"Please, Sensei, I told Casey I'd meet him as soon as training was through," Raphael took a chance. "We promised-"

"AS I WAS SAYING," each word clipped out of Splinter's mouth like nails being shot from a nail gun. "This is a story about firsts. Now, it is true, Leonardo usually masters the new katas and the new moves first. That is just part of his nature. But you all have mastered many things, or done something first before the others. Donatello, for example, was the first to speak."

"Yeah, but Mikey was first to speak normally- and too much," Raph grumbled, earning looks from both of his brothers.

"Raphael! Who is telling this story?"

"Sorry, Sensei."

"Donatello was the first to speak. Leonardo was the first to walk," Splinter continued, eyes starting to see it in his memory as if it were in front of him: Leonardo, sitting on the floor where the others were crawling, watching Splinter as he moved back and forth in their little "home". Then, crawling to the low table, he had hauled himself up to his unsteady feet, and with great determination began to slowly move around the table, holding on for dear life.

Splinter, finally noticing, froze where he was as the baby turtle made three slow circuits around the low table. Leonardo then looked at his father standing a short distance from him, watching. He grinned a huge baby grin, and with a sudden lurching motion made a very unsteady yet successful trip from the table to the Rat, arms waving wildly when his balance threatened to abandon him. It was all Splinter could do to keep from rushing to meet him, to prevent him from falling. But the determined turtle made it, grabbing Splinter's newly acquired robe with both hands and grinning up like he'd done something magnificent.

"Maybe we could sneak out while he's remembering," the whisper of Michelangelo to his brothers cut into his reverie, and Splinter realized that he was not really telling them a story at the moment.

"Yes, Leonardo was the first to walk- and you, Michelangelo, were the last," Splinter said. "And you may very well be the last again- the last to leave the dojo."

The others tried not to laugh.

"The story I will tell is about one of the most difficult lesson any of you had to learn," Splinter went on. "This lesson was so difficult that I feared that none of you would or even could master it. I, myself, was new to it, and perhaps that is why it was so hard for you all to learn. It was learning how to use the potty."

Four turtles groaned in horror.

"Sensei! Please! Ain't we a little old to be hearing this story?" Raphael protested. He did not want to hear about when they were being potty-trained. He began to remember vague nightmares about being swallowed by the toilet.

"What's the matter, Raph? Afraid to hear how you were last?" Leonardo teased, though he, too, was not looking forward to this story.

"No, it was Mikey," Donatello said. "Remember how you whined and fussed until Splinter changed your bed with Leo's because of how many times Mikey would wet his, and it would drip down on you?"

"HEY! I didn't wet the bed- much," the youngest protested.

"And I asked to be changed 'cause Mikey was drivin' me nuts with his constant chattering!" Raph insisted.

"My sons! The sooner I can tell this story, the sooner you can leave," Splinter reminded them.

Four turtles realized that there was no way they were going to distract their father from his insistence on telling this tale. They had hoped that by arguing and bantering he would grow tired and kick them out, but tonight he was being stubborn.

Sighing as one, they all four turned their attention back to their father.

"Now," Splinter said, satisfied that he had a captive audience, "it was shortly after I had moved us to our former home that I set about trying to train you four to the uses of our new toilet."

His eyes took on that faraway look as he began the story... so long ago...

Splinter stared at this device. He knew from observations (the descriptions of those circumstances are best left out of this story, Donatello) that one "sat" on the oval shaped seat, and eliminated into the bowl of water. Then one depressed the handle, and the water would swirl and empty from the bowl, taking the waste with it.

He stared at the roll of paper. This was for "cleaning" oneself afterwards. It seemed rather unsanitary to the rat, using one's hands to do such a thing. Licking had always served a much more sensible purpose. But his new body shape and new awareness made this former natural trait unacceptable.

His eyes went back to the toilet. He had observed (again, how, when, where, and why were not important, Michelangelo, stop interrupting) that some of the surface dwellers would stand when urinating, and sit when defecating (MICHAELANGELO! One more interruption and...). Splinter was not sure that this would be a good idea for him, this standing in front of the toilet. Maybe later, when the Turtles were older and taller, he would revisit that aspect of this new lifestyle.

But for the moment, he would concentrate on sitting on the bowl.

The turtles were asleep. He would not be interrupted.

Gingerly, carefully, as if he were afraid of being attacked, he maneuvered himself over the bowl and sat on the seat-

Splash!

And immediately jumped up again, pulling his tail from the water. Quickly, he grabbed a towel and dried it, then wiped up the floor where the drippings had fallen.

"Hmmm... What do I do about my tail? This is going to be harder than I thought," he spoke aloud, looking from the toilet to his poor tail and back again.

The strange tank, along with how it was hooked up to the bowl, made draping his tail down the back almost impossible. He tried again, keeping it carefully pulled around to the side.

But where it joined his body began to hurt terribly. He had to lean forward, and as he tried to get more comfortable, he leaned forward too far, lost his balance, and fell off the toilet.

("BWA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" "Mikey!" three sets of voices chorused)

Perhaps if he straddled it, facing the wall, then his tail could drape over the front... once again he tried this. He still had to lean forward, but the tank was there to support him.

It was very uncomfortable, but at least his tail was out of the water and not being strained at the base by some unnatural position...

"And now, to see if I can do this," he said aloud again-

"Jeeze, Sensei! Please tell me you're not going to give us a blow-by-blow description of actually USING it!" Raphael couldn't keep himself from interrupting.

Splinter noticed that all four were squirming with embarrassment. Yes, perhaps Raphael was right. He did not need to go into complete detail.

And yet, it had given him a sense of accomplishment, knowing that he could do this "human" thing...

"Well, once I felt confident in the ability to do this task myself," he said. "I decided it was time to begin your lessons."

"Sensei, with all respect," Leonardo interrupted. "I understand that you wish to share this lesson with us, but you did give Raphael and Donatello permission to go out tonight, and they are already running late."

Splinter looked at the clock, then at his sons.

"Yes, you are right. I have kept you longer than intended. Very well, you are dismissed."

With a sigh of relief, all four stood and bowed to their Sensei. They had escaped the rest of this story!

"We will continue it tomorrow after morning training," Splinter shattered their hopes. "See you then, my sons."