Timko and the Big Potty

Once upon a time, in the Oak Grove, there lived a little hedgehog called Timko. He already knew how to use the potty all by himself. The small red one, with a handle like a little ear.

“I can do it myself!” Timko would say every time, and he sniffed proudly through his nose.

One morning Mom said:

“Timko, you’re big now. Would you like to try the big potty? Like Dad and I have.”

The big potty stood in a tiny little room. It was wooden and tall, with a lid. And in the middle was a hole. A round, round, ever so big hole!

Timko peeked in and — whoosh! — curled up into a ball. That is what all hedgehogs do when they feel scared.

“What if I fall in?” squeaked the ball. “Like an acorn into a hollow!”

Mom stroked his little spines.

“I can see you’re scared. That’s all right.”

And she went into the kitchen.

“I’ll bake a pie, just in case.”

The next morning Timko went to visit the big potty.

“Good morning, potty,” he said politely. “You won’t eat me, will you?”

The potty said nothing.

“Tomorrow,” Timko decided. “Tomorrow I’ll sit on you.”

And he ran back to his own little one.

And the morning after that, Timko ran to Dad.

“Dad, there’s a frog living in the big potty! She’s taking a swim in it.”

Dad peeked into the little room. There was no frog.

“Then she must have gone to pick mushrooms,” said Timko. “Tomorrow!”

Dad was quiet for a moment. Then he took out a piece of string.

“Sit on the stump for me, son.”

Timko sat down. Dad measured him with the string: like this, and like that. He wanted to write it down.

“Now where’s my pencil?”

Timko giggled and pointed his paw at Dad’s ear. The pencil was sticking out of it, as always.

Dad went off to his workshop. For a long time there came sounds from there: scritch-scratch went the little saw, tap-tap went the hammer. And meanwhile Mom was baking her second pie already. Just in case.

After lunch Dad carried out two things. A little wooden step with a star carved into it. And a round seat, just Timko’s size. Dad set it on the big potty — click! — and the hole became small. Not ever so big, but just right.

Timko looked at the step. At the seat. At Dad. Then he stopped, sniffed through his nose and said:

“Breathe in, breathe out, and off we go!”

He stepped on the step — up. He sat down — plop. He was sitting! And he wasn’t falling in anywhere.

“I can do it myself!” Timko shouted so that the whole Oak Grove could hear. “I can do the big one myself!”

Mom laughed and went to fetch the pies. Both of them. As always, there were far too many pies, so one was taken over to Granny Owl.

And Timko solemnly pushed the little red potty over to Lily.

“It’s yours now. I’ve grown up.”

Lily crawled all the way around the potty, sniffed it… and sat her rag bunny on it.

“No, no!” Timko laughed. “It’s too early for the bunny! He’s still tiny.”

Then Dad stood Timko by the little plank on the kitchen door frame and drew a new line above his spines. Timko already knew where to look for the pencil, and he pulled it out from behind Dad’s ear himself. Dad drew a tiny star next to the line.

Timko looked at the star and sniffed proudly:

“I can do it myself! Well, and Dad’s step helped… just a teeny bit.”