Laissez Faire

Jack has developed a laissez faire approach to urination. Hands off, baby. He's not touching a thing down there. I don't know if he's just focusing on keeping his shirt dry, or if he's going for style points. Either way, it's fun to watch.

Now, this may come as a surprise to you, but potty training is not something I particularly enjoy. In fact, I wouldn't do it at all if I didn't fear the wrath of my lovely and charming wife. But, I do my part, and she remains lovely and charming, and we're both happy. I will admit that it's a little easier for me with Jack than it was with Ella. Not only do we have the same plumbing, but there's a little sport involved when standing as opposed to sitting. Calculations must be made. Aim must be taken. Thrust and velocity are factors that must be considered when choosing the correct trajectory.

Most of us who use our hands are capable of making minute adjustments rather quickly and with little effort in order to hit the target. But Jack... he aims with the big muscles. The back, the legs, the whole torso. He is fluid, and in constant motion. A whirligig of pivoting hips, pelvic thrusts, arching back, and bended knees. He looks like a cross between Mick Jagger performing "Jumping Jack Flash" and Neo from "The Matrix" dodging bullets in real time. His lips are taught, his brow furrowed, his concentration strong. He is limber and balanced and proud.

And I am proud, too. Go your own way, I say. March to a different beat. Prior to the Great Depression, laissez faire always worked. Jack's just kicking it old school, like before the New Deal, and I'm cool with that. Cool.