TMNT belong to Mirage. Embarrassment belongs to the Turtles.

Celebrate the Moment

Though Professor Honeycutt could not "eat" in the normal sense, he always joined them for these invitations, and used the opportunity to "recharge" his power cells with the portable device that he, Donatello and Leatherhead had developed.

Even now, the two mutated reptiles and the android were huddled in their seats, talking about their "secret", oblivious to the others around them.

"I dunno," Raph mumbled through his food to Casey. "I gotta feeling that those three are plannin' to take over the world."

"Yeah, well, I hope they remember that we're on their side," Casey responded, helping himself to the amazing creation he and Raph had "invented" that night. "I gotta say it, Raph- this is the best casserole we've ever come up with."

"I agree!" Raph grinned, and they toasted each other with their soda, both silently vowing to eat this stuff again at Casey's with beer to wash it down. These things just taste better with beer.

"So, Leo, how about you and me spending the evening in honorable combat," Mikey grinned. "I'll even let you choose the game we play."

"We could go on a training run," Leo suggested. Video games were okay, but he preferred actual action to virtual battle.

"Aww, come on, big bro! Where's your sense of adventure?" Mikey whined childlike. "Let me beat you at 'Mega-Invaders from Outer Space'!"

"I'd rather be out of the lair," Leo tried hinting. "You know, fresh air, change of scenery- no stories to distract us," he lowered his voice, hoping that Mikey would catch on.

Leonardo constantly seemed to forget just how good Splinter's hearing was. It didn't matter how much chatter was going on at the table, he could hear the softest whisper, the most quiet plotting.

Splinter, sitting there politely eating what his son and Casey had "created", heard the hidden message in Leonardo's hint to Michelangelo. He sipped his tea to rid his mouth of the taste of the food, then cleared his throat.

"I trust none of you are in a hurry," he addressed the group. "I have one more thing I must discuss with my sons before they are free for the evening. It will not take long."

"Not at all, Master Splinter," Professor Honeycutt replied, obvious to the worried looks of the Turtles. "We have no set time when we need to get back to work."

"In fact, we are very close to finishing," Leatherhead added, smiling at the rat. "I personally hope that you will be the first to witness it in action."

Splinter inclined his head in gratitude.

"I would be most honored to see what it is you three have been so busy with. And you, Mr. Jones- you can wait for Raphael?"

"Sure thing, Master Splinter!" Casey grinned before Raph's frantic looks and motions registered on his brain. "I mean... uh... well, we need to-"

"Very good, we will not keep you long," Splinter said smoothly. "I just need to finish up a little story with a moral to it, and they are free to go."

"Oh, really? A fable, like those amusing ones in the book Donatello loaned me?" Honeycutt asked interested. "May I hear it as well?"

"No!" Don nearly shouted, then, embarrassed, lowered his voice. "It's not one of those types of stories, Professor. It's more of a-"

"More of a personal nature," Leo helped out, rising quickly and motioning to his brothers to join him in the dojo. "Perhaps you all would like to wait in Don's lab?"

"Naw, I'll just crash on the couch and watch the tube," Casey cheerfully replied.

Raph was not the only one who did NOT want that. Their dojo in this home was pretty much in the open, and there was the chance that Casey might overhear this dark story of terror and embarrassment.

"Um, Case, why don'tcha head on over to April's, and I'll catch you up?" He tried hinting, and if he could have gotten away with it, he would have shoved him physically out the door.

"Do not worry Raphael. I will finish the story tonight, and it will not take long," Splinter smiled, also rising. "All of you are invited to sit comfortably in the living room," he added, looking at Leatherhead and Honeycutt.

"But- but they might hear about-" Mikey, paling as he finally figured out the situation.

"Oh HO!" Casey snorted. "You guys are actin' all strange- you don't want us to hear what Splinter's got to say to you- I get it! He's giving you all 'the Talk'! Sure, it makes sense now. I felt the same way when my old man told ME the facts of life. 'Course, I was way younger than you all but-"

"Jeeze, Casey, not THAT personal," Raph grumbled. "Just go watch TV and turn up the sound, will you? Real loud."

"Aww, come on, Raphy! Now I'm kinda curious just what it is he's gonna tell you all," Casey chuckled.

"Indeed, Mr. Jones, it is a very personal story that I am telling my sons," Splinter smiled to everyone. "Though I do not understand their reluctance for their friends to hear about their childhood."

"Their childhood?" Leatherhead repeated. "I wish I could hear about some of their childhood. I would like to compare their mutation with my own sometime."

"Yeah, sometime, that'd be great L.H.!" Mikey grinned, now next to Splinter and taking his arm. "Here, Sensei, let me help you to the dojo!"

"About this time," Splinter said, as four nervous turtles strained to keep their attention on their Sensei, yet fully aware of the presence of three formerly welcomed visitors sitting across the large room in the living area, "I came to the realization that I might be going to fast with your training. The book I had found had a section on successful potty training for boys. Naturally, I was unaware at first that there was a difference between males and females (Michelangelo, I would be very pleased to explain the differences to you- as you do fifty flips)- as I was saying, from my natural experience, I had no idea that there was a difference between males and females when it came to elimination. But I soon discovered (NO! I was NEVER in a women's restroom! One hundred flips!) that where humans were concerned, this difference was evidently a big deal.

"Teach him to sit first, then stand. Since poos and wees often come at the same time, it makes sense initially to have your son sitting down for both so he learns that both belong in the potty. Also, that way, he won't get distracted by the fun of spraying and learning to aim when you need him to concentrate on just mastering the basic procedure."

"When your son seems to be comfortable on his potty or toilet training seat, let him give standing at the toilet a try (you'll have to buy a non-slip stool for him to stand on at first). There's no reason to rush this; he can sit as long as he likes. If he seems reluctant, try floating a few Cheerios or other small, flushable objects in the toilet bowl for target practice, and expect to clean up a few messes as your son perfects his aim."

Splinter, sitting in the living room, watching the four toddlers at "play", turned his attention back to the puzzling book he was reading. He had observed that human males either stood or sat; he was unaware until he had started reading this book that the males were trained in "aiming" as well. Humans are so complicated!

Looking back at these four, who were beginning to show the telltale signs of having to go but reluctant to do it on their own, he despaired of ever getting them trained in anything.

"My sons, do you need to go to the potty?"

"No, father!" four voices chorused, while four turtles squirmed and wriggled and bounced and scrunched up their faces and tried to hold it.

Sighing, he closed the book and motioned everyone into the bathroom.

Once again he had to supervise, making sure the other three did not use the spot behind the door or the bathtub while the first one took care of business.

Once everyone had successfully eliminated and flushed, the four bolted from the bathroom to return to their new "toys"- Splinter, on one of his recent scavenging rounds, had found a fairly full box of building blocks, a few plastic cars that had all their wheels (as long as Donatello could be kept from removing them, that is), and a stuffed bear that Michelangelo had named "Mr. Growlly".

"I's back, Mista Growlly!" he sang out, picking up the stuffed bear that was almost larger than he was. "I's hadda be a big boy. Does you haf to go potty?"

"No, Mikanjio!" he growled his voice, speaking for the bear. "I's doesn't haf to go potty! I's a bear! RAWRR!"

Splinter picked up his book, and looked at yet another suggestion.

"Raise the fun factor. If you approach potty training with a little imagination, your child will be more likely to stay motivated throughout the entire process. Drip some blue food coloring into the toilet and your child will be amazed at how he can turn the water green. Put several favorite books next to the toilet so he can read them whenever he has to go — or better yet, read to him. Maybe he'd like to cut out paper shapes and use them for target practice."

Again with the target practice! And as for making the toilet an object of play- well, he had already had to prevent Donatello from finding out what items would flush down the drain versus what items would not. He had only just yesterday rescued one of the cars and three blocks from such an experiment. He was not sure if Donatello had been successful before he had been caught, but at least Splinter had NOT had to unclog the toilet once again ("Dude! You were a bad little turtle!" "Yeah, well now I'm not the one clogging it up all the time. Experimentation is understandable, but what you do is criminal.").

Briefly, as Splinter watched Michelangelo talking with the bear, he wondered if he should insist that his son start taking the toy for potty breaks. Perhaps if he could get his youngest to "pretend" that the bear needed to use the toilet, then Michelangelo would also begin to use it on his own.

And then, the others might follow. He had noticed more and more that there seemed to be a united front among the four. When one learned something, soon all of them were doing it. It was almost a competitive streak. Leonardo had barely learned to walk, and then all four were up. Well, Michelangelo had waited longer, but still.

Once Donatello started talking, it seemed that the other three suddenly began trying to talk, as if they could not stand to be left behind.

If only I can get one of them to start using the toilet without my prompting him, I just know the other three will follow! But how?

"Celebrate his successes. He will undoubtedly have a few accidents, but eventually your son will enjoy the accomplishment of getting something in the potty. Celebrate this moment with a big fanfare. Reinforce the idea that he's reached a significant milestone by rewarding him with a 'big boy' reward..."

Hmmm... celebrate...

Suddenly Splinter thought of something that might just do the trick! But he had to be sparing- he did not have much of the item at hand, but they had liked what he had shown them so far. Perhaps if he were to use it for the first one to go on his own, then the other three would be more motivated!

As they built a tower of blocks and then knocked it down with the cars, he smiled at his little plan. None of them paid any attention as he left them for his own room rummaging out this most precious of finds.

"Leonardo," Splinter, interrupting himself, looked at the face of his eldest. "You look ill, my son. Is something the matter?"

Leonardo indeed had, as the story unfolded, begun to look pale. A thin sheen of sweat had started to come out on his face. He was conscious of the rapid beating of his heart, of his breath struggling to come faster. He felt as if some impending doom was about to descend upon him and his brothers, some evil that he could not see yet but could sense none the less.

A distant memory from his childhood had suddenly flashed into his brain, as vivid and as fresh as if it had just happened. With a growing horror, he stared at his father.

"Master Splinter," he choked out. "Please- tell me that you didn't..."

Splinter looked at Leonardo, puzzled.

"That I 'didn't' what?"

"Hey, Leo, what's the matter?" Don asked in a worried voice. He could tell that some sort of- well, fear- had suddenly manifested in his brother. Leo looked as if he were reliving the attack by Shredder and his large army of ninja, when he had nearly died. He put a concerned hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Leo?" Mikey was also staring, along with Raph, at this sudden, strange behavior of their leader. "Leo, what is it? What did Splinter do?"

"My son, what is the problem? I merely followed the advice of the book I was reading," Splinter defended. "It said to celebrate the successes. And so, what better way to celebrate than to mark the occasion in a special way?"

And from the folds of his robe, where he'd kept it hidden, he pulled out a small, off-white, battered and hand lettered album.

Holding it up so that the four could see, Splinter had a hard time not smiling at the looks on their faces as they read Splinter's neat and elegant writing on the cover:

The Book of Firsts- My sons and their achievements, by their loving father